"Well, I don't know, Miss Lee—I might be able to rush it through for you in a week or ten days."
"There!" Nolan obtruded an excited smirk and weaving hands between Lucinda and the technical director. "You hear what Coakley says. Ten days! You can't hold up this production ten days, Miss Lee."
"I can," Lucinda corrected coldly, "and will, no matter how long it takes to make this set resemble a place self-respecting people would patronize."
"But—listen here!—you can't go to work and upset all my plans at the last moment, like this. Company called for half-past eight—fifty extra people hired for four days' work—orchestra from the Alexandria and all—the best caterer in Los Angeles engaged to serve the eats—! You can't throw me down like this——"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nolan. You should have consulted me before ordering such changes on your own responsibility——"
"Look here: am I directing this picture, or ain't I?"
"I'll answer that question when you answer mine: Am I paying for this production or are you? And if I am, are you the only one whose wishes are to be considered?"
"Listen, now, Miss Lee." Nolan made a frantic effort to be calm and urbane. He swallowed hard. "Listen: I don't want to have any trouble with you, but you're making it all-fired hard for me. I've been in this business ever since there was a studio in Hollywood, I've directed hundreds of productions, hundreds of 'em, I ought to know my business——"
"It was on that assumption precisely that you were hired," Lucinda reminded him sweetly.
"But ever since I been working with you, I've felt—you've made me feel—damn it! you've been watching me and thinking sarcastic things about the way I do——"