“What are you going to do? Must you make them over again?”
He shook his head. “The Hyperfilm Company will probably shut up shop now.”
“And let my pictures die?”
He nodded.
She beckoned him close and clung to him, babbling: “What will become of me? Oh, my poor pictures! My pretty pictures! The company owes me a week's salary. And I had counted on the money. What's to become of me?”
Ferriday resented her eternal use of him for her own advantages. “Why do you appeal to me? Where's your friend Dyckman?”
“I was to see him this evening—dine with him.”
“Well, he can build you ten new studios and not feel it. Better ask him to set you up in business.”
Kedzie revolted at this, but she had no answer. Ferriday saw the papers folded open at the society pages. He stared at them, at her, then sniffed:
“So that's your new ambition!”