The tubby little director lifted himself off the seat and ambled down the aisle to learn how much longer they would be detained and Janet watched him go with a strange elation in her heart.
DEADLY FANGS
Helen looked at her companion through smiling, quizzical eyes.
“Well, what do you make of that?” she asked.
“I’m a little bit dizzy, but I guess Mr. Fenstow meant what he said. Do you suppose I can really turn out an acceptable story for a western picture?” Janet turned and shot the question squarely at Helen.
“I’m sure you can. That is,” she amended, “if you don’t let the thought of it scare you.”
“I’ll give it a lot of time and thought before I start writing the story.”
“There isn’t much time,” warned Helen, and Janet knew that her companion was right.