"But are you fair to me? I meant you no harm, I didn't say—what you resent—you know."
The girl gave a grimace of pure hate. "No," she snarled—"you didn't say anything unkind, you were too busy posing as Lady Bountiful to pass uncharitable remarks! But he—he said enough—enough for me. Oh, I'm not saying he didn't tell the truth! I'm 'a bad lot,' all right—a rotten bad lot, if you want to know—and I'll be worse before I'm better. So you watch out and keep away from me—d'you hear? I want and warn you to keep away from me. I don't want your pity or your charity or any of your holier-than-thou butting in—all I want's just to be let alone. Any time I change my mind, I'll send you an engraved notice.... I trust I make myself clear, Miss Lee!"
"Yes, thank you," said Lucinda coolly—"quite"—and went her way.
Insolence so patently hysterical could neither hurt nor harden her heart. She consigned the affront to the limbo of the insignificant, and had put all thought of it away when, fifteen minutes later, her car brought her to the Lontaine bungalow.
Here Lucinda had to rout Fanny out of bed and make her dress, against her protestations that she'd been on a party the night before, with Harry and some people, so needed rest and kind words more than exercise and open air.
The reflection cast a shadow as transitory as a flying cloud's upon the bright tranquillity of Lucinda's temper, that Fanny, by her own frank account, had been going in for parties rather heavily of late, and it wasn't doing her any good. Not that she showed ill effects more than in a feverish look that really enhanced her blonde prettiness. But with Fanny's insatiable appetite for the sort of thing that she called fun....
After all, that was Fanny's concern, and Harry's. One had confidence in their ultimate good sense, in their knowing where to draw the line, when to call a halt.
From the Lontaine bungalow the two proceeded to the Zinn Studios, having nothing better to do and thinking to pick up Harry there and run him down to the Alexandria for luncheon. But the shabbily furnished little office assigned to Linda Lee Inc. was empty, the blue-and-white car was missing from the yard, and nobody had any information concerning Lontaine's whereabouts or probable return.
This was nothing unusual, Lontaine was always on the wing, blowing to and fro between Los Angeles and the studio; but his absence left the young women at loose ends until Fanny suggested that they look up Lynn, find out what he was doing, and make him stop it.
Summerlad's company was busy doing nothing at all on one of the enclosed stages, contentedly lounging in and about a bizarre ball-room set and waiting for something to happen; the occupation which, Lucinda by this time had come to know, earns the motion-picture actor about ninety per cent. of his wages; the other ten being paid him for actual acting. Neither Lynn nor Joseph Jacques, his director, was in evidence, but the cameraman said the two of them had retired to the director's office for a conference.