"I'll tell the world," he declared defiantly, "the screen never seen an introduction like that before!"
Anxious to avoid a repetition of their former squabble, Lucinda sought vainly for some equivocal phrase that would content the man's stupendous vanity. But, inconceivably inane as it sounds, the business of the Comedy Feet has been here set forth without the faintest colour of exaggeration; and her wits were numb from the impact of its wanton stupidity.
"Well!" Nolan sneered in an effort to reassert his authority—"I can see it didn't make a whale of a hit with you, Miss Lee, but believe me, the audiences will eat that stuff up, simply eat it up!"
"Don't you think," Lucinda ventured—"perhaps it's a little long, Mr. Nolan?"
"Oh, maybe a little trimming here and there won't do any harm. But it can't come down a whole lot without hurting the Comedy effect."
"But—I don't like to seem hypercritical—but that's what's troubling me. You see, it doesn't seem terribly amusing to me."
Nolan's eyes snapped, but as yet he had his temper under fair control.
"I'd like to know why not," he replied with more civility than the bare words as quoted can convey.
"If you'll be patient with me, I'll try to explain. It seems to me in a story of this sort, about real people struggling with real emotions, whatever comedy is introduced ought to be in character or consistent with the general tone of the picture."
"Well?" Nolan drawled wearily.