know; it was finer to take the plunge without so much as asking a return. It was magnificent.
The word, popping into his thoughts, gave Peter a thrill. Yes, it was magnificent. He was doing a magnificent thing. All that remained was to carry it off magnificently.
He dragged his trunk from the closet. The lower tray and the bottom were packed with photographs and with letters tied in flat bundles – letters in various feminine hands. He stirred the bundles about. Some were old – years old; others less so.
Peter regarded them with the detachment of exaltation. They could not possibly mean anything to him; his life had begun the day he first saw Sue Wilde.
He carried them into the studio, great armsful, and piled them about the hearth. In the bottom drawer of the bureau were other packets of intimate documents. He brought those as well. Then he set to work to burn, packet by packet, that curiously remote past life of his. And he smiled a little at this memory and that.
Closely packed papers do not burn easily. He was seated there on the floor before the fireplace, stirring up sheets at which the flames had nibbled, when Jacob Zanin came in.
Zanin stared and laughed.
“Bad as that?” said he.
Peter met this sally with dignified silence. He urged his caller to sit down.
Zanin dropped his hat on the desk and disposed his big frame in the Morris chair. His coat was wrinkled, his trousers baggy. Under his coat was an old gray sweater. The head above the sweater collar was big and well-poised. The face was hard and strong; the eyes were alight with restlessness.
“I’m dog tired,” said Zanin. “Been rehearsing six hours straight.” And he added: “I suppose you haven’t had a chance to go over my scenario.”
“I’ve done more than that,” replied Peter calmly; “I’ve written a new one.” And as Zanin’s brows came down questioningly he added: “I think you’ll find I’ve pointed up your ideas. The thing was very strong. Once I got to thinking about it I couldn’t let go. What it needed was clarifying and rearranging and building for climaxes. That’s what makes it so hard for our people to understand you Russians – you are formless, chaotic.”
“Like life,” said Zanin.
“Perhaps. But not like our stage traditions. You wanted me to help you reach a popular audience. That’s what I’m trying to do for you.”
“Fine!” said Zanin doubtfully. “Let me take it along. I’ll read it to-night – go over it with Sue, perhaps.”
Peter shook his head.
“But I’ll have to see it, Mann.”
“I’ll read it to you – to you and Sue,” said Peter.
Zanin looked at him, faintly surprised and thinking.
Peter went back to the hearth, dropped on his knees and threw another bundle of letters into the fire.
“The fact is,” said Zanin, hesitating, “I had some work planned for Sue this evening.”
“No hurry,” remarked Peter.
“Ah, but there is.” Zanin hitched forward in his chair. The eager hardness came again into his eyes. His strong, slightly husky voice rose a little.
“Why? How so?” Peter settled back on his heels and poked the fire.
“Look here, Mann – everything’s just right for us now. I’ve interested the Interstellar people – that’s partly what I came to say – they’ll supply studio stuff for the interior scenes and a camera man. Also they’ll stand a third of the expense. They’re ready to sign whenever you are. And what’s more important – well, here’s the question of Sue.”
“What’s the question?”
“It’s delicate – but I’ll be frank.”
“Better be. You and I are going into this as business men, Zanin.”
“Exactly. As business men. Well – Sue’s a girl, after all. In this thing we are staking a lot on her interest and enthusiasm – pretty nearly everything.”
“Of course.
“Well, she’s ready – eager. I know her pretty thoroughly, Mann. I’ve studied her. We have no real hold on her. She isn’t a professional actress, to be hired at so much a week. Her only reason for going into it at all, is that she believes, with you and me, that the thing ought to be done. Now that’s all right. It’s fine! But it’s going to take delicate handling. A girl acts as she feels, you know. Right now Sue feels like doing my Nature film with all her might.” He spread out his hands. In his eyes was an eager appeal. “God, Maun, that’s all we’ve got! Don’t you see? Just Sue’s feelings!”
“I see,” Peter replied. He threw the last heap of photographs on the fire. “But what was the frank thing?”
Zanin hesitated; drummed nervously on the chair-arm. “I’m coming to that. It’s a bit awkward, Mann. It’s – well, I am more or less in Sue’s confidence, you know. I’m with her so much, I can sense her moods… The fact is, Mann, if you’ll let me say so, you don’t seem to understand women.”
“So I’ve been told,” remarked Peter dryly. “Go on with it.”
“Well, Sue’s got it into her head that you don’t get the idea of intelligent radicalism. That you’re…
“That I’m a reactionary.”
“Yes – that you’re a reactionary. She’s worried about the scenario – afraid you’ll miss the very point of it.” Again he spread out his large strong hands. “So don’t you see why I’m eager to get hold of it and read it to her” – he hesitated again, and knit his brows – “so I can reassure her… You see, Mann, Sue just doesn’t like you. That’s the plain fact. You’ve hit her all wrong.” He raised a hand to ward off Peter’s interruption. “Oh, we’ll straighten that out all right! But it’ll take delicate handling – just now, while we’re working out the scenario and planning the trip south – and so, meantime…”
“You would like me to keep out of Sue’s way as much as possible.”
“And leave everything to me, Mann. As it stands now, here she is, keen, all ready, once she’s solid in her mind about the right spirit of the scenario, to start south with me…”
Peter waved the poker in a series of small circles and figure eights; then held it motionless and sighted along it with squinted-up eyes.
“Why go south?” he asked.
Zanin gave a start and stared at him; then controlled himself, for the expenses of that little trip, two-thirds of them, at least, must be paid out of the funds entered in Peter’s six little bank books.
“Why go south?” Zanin repeated, gropingly; then came back at Peter with a rush of words. “Good lord, Mann, don’t you see that we’re putting over a big piece of symbolism – the most delicate and difficult job on earth. This isn’t Shore Acres! It isn’t the Doll’s House! It’s a realized dream, and it’s got to be put across with such quality and power that it will fire a new dream in the public mind.
