"Don't be ridiculous, Bel!"
"Can't blame me for wondering—can you?—the way you stare, as if I were a ghost."
"So you are," Lucinda retorted, shocked into gasping coherence by this impudence. "I can't imagine a greater surprise...."
"I believe you. But think of mine—I mean, of course, my astonishment."
Bel would have her hand, there was no refusing him that open sign of friendship; for an instant Lucinda let it rest limply in his grasp, appreciating there was nothing she could do now but take his cues as they fell, and treat the rencontre as one of the most welcome she had ever experienced....
"But wherever did you bob up from, Bel?"
"From the East, naturally—last night's train. The Alexandria told me where you'd moved, the Hollywood directed me to your studio, somebody there said you might be found out here—'working on location,' think he called it. So took a chance—and here I am. Hope you don't mind...."
"Mind? Why should I?"
"Couldn't be sure I wasn't violating Hollywood etiquette. Never saw a movie in the making before, you know. Most entertaining. Congratulate you and Mr. Summerlad on the way you played your little scene just now. Only for the camera over there, I'd have sworn you both meant it."
"Don't put too much trust in the camera, Mr. Druce," Summerlad interposed blandly. "Rumour to the contrary notwithstanding, the blame' thing has been known to lie."