"But I want it burned up. I won't have it shown!" insisted Mr. Towne.
"Why not?"
"Do you suppose for one instant—er, ah—that I am going to let the public see me like this?" and Mr. Towne glanced at his wet and dripping garments—garments that, but a short time ago, had been a walking testimonial of the tailor's art. Now they were wet and misshapen.
"Why, you can't expect a man who has just been rescued from New York Bay to look as though he came out of a band-box; can you, dear man?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Of course you look wet—the public will expect to see you wet—dripping with water, in fact. Water always comes out well in the movies, anyhow. Of course the public wants to see you wet!"
"But I don't want them to!" protested the actor. "I have never been shown in pictures except when I was well dressed, and I do not propose to begin now. I will pose for you as soon as I get dry clothes on, but not in—these!" and he made a despairing motion toward his ruined garments.
"Oh, you are too fussy!" laughed Mr. Pertell. "Those pictures will have to go. The scene was too good to spoil, as long as you were not drowned."
"I was in no danger of drowning," returned Mr. Towne, coldly. "I am a good swimmer. I was taken by surprise, that is all."
"Well, it made good pictures," declared the manager, indifferently.
"Too bad I couldn't get you just as you went overboard!" sighed Russ. "I was taken by surprise, too; but I did the best I could. We can have you do that part over."
"Never!" cried Mr. Towne, angrily. "I will never be seen in an undignified position again, nor in clothes that have not been freshly pressed," and he stalked away toward his stateroom.