"What's that got to do with it?" Mr. Eammer asked impatiently. "You just got to hold still when the male lead grabs you. Leave it all to him, he knows what to do."
"No," I cried, appalled. "I don't want anybody else kissing Mary."
"Neither do I," said Mary, blushing.
"You're absolutely right." Mr. Eammer uttered a deep sigh. "Such deep love, such clean emotion, it cuts my heart out, honestly. Okay, we'll give the script a scrubbing. Nobody'll put a finger on her."
"I don't think I'm interested," said Mary regretfully.
Mr. Eammer was staggered. He recovered immediately and said hastily, "Smart girl. What intelligence. It's no life for you."
"But, Mary," I said, kind of liking the idea of my Mary on the screen; of being sole owner of her sweetness with millions of people knowing nobody could kiss this girl but myself. "It's such a rare opportunity. Every girl wants to be a movie star. Do it!"
"Sure," cried Mr. Eammer. "Don't be a dope. How many girls get a chance like this?"
Mary whispered, her eyes shining, "Well, all right, dear, if you insist."
"You have a deal, Mr. Eammer," I said quickly.