The elements of ignition began to collect in Destiny’s dust-pan toward the end of the month.
Camille Armand, Gowns, 57th Street, sent Betsy Blythe an estimate for her personal adornment in the proposed production of a super-picture to be called The Devil’s Own.
Betsy sent the outrageous estimate to Frank Donnell.
Donnell sent it to Albert Smull.
His partner, Leopold Shill, got hold of it and objected with both hands.
Smull telephoned to Donnell that he’d drop in and discuss cuts in the morning.
A minor accident detained Donnell’s suburban train.
Smull arrived at Donnell’s office and sat down at Donnell’s desk to wait.
Donnell’s secretary opened the director’s morning mail and laid it on his desk under the ruddy nose of Albert Smull. On top was a telegram to Donnell from Eris, dated from Whitewater, N. Y. Smull read it:
“Arrive Saturday evening, Jane Street. Would love to see you before I begin work. Do call me up after Monday. Best wishes always.