“I?” asked Palla, surprised and amused. “No, Mr. Puma, I haven’t.”
“A test! Possibly, in you, latent, sleeps the exquisite apotheosis of Art incarnate! Who can tell? You have youth, beauty, a mind! Yes. Who knows if, also, happily, genius slumbers within? Yes?”
“I’m very sure it doesn’t,” replied Palla, laughing.
“Ah! Who can be sure of anything––even of heaven!” cried Puma.
“Very true,” said Palla, trying to speak seriously, “But the career of a moving picture actress does not attract me.”
“The emoluments are enormous!”
“Thank you, no–––”
“A test! We try! It would be amusing for you to see yourself upon the screen as you are, Miss Dumont? As you are––young, beautiful, vivacious–––”
He still blocked her way, so she said, laying her gloved hand on the knob:
“Thank you very much. Some day, perhaps. But I really must go–––”