He stepped into the inner room and returned with a typed manuscript.
“Another play?” Melody inquired in a languid tone. “Have you taken to writing plays, too?”
“Not exactly,” Brainard replied, running over the sheets.
“Leaventritt came to see me yesterday,” Melody remarked carelessly.
“I sent him.”
“So he said.”
“You want to be careful. There’s a mercenary streak in his blood, and success is likely to bring it out; but he’s intelligent and honest enough.”
“You’re still set on making an idiot of yourself about the money and things?”
“If you mean that I am still determined to render unto Melody the riches that are Melody’s by rights, why, yes!”
“Then what are you going to do?”