"There are a few men and women who are earning even more than they
are getting, and that's a million a minute. Now, the one chance
for you, Anita, is to have some tremendous personal backing. You've
come into the game a little late. This firm you're with is tottering.
They blame me for it, but it's not my fault altogether. Anyway, this
company is riding for a fall, and down we may all go in the dust
with a dozen other big companies, any day."
Kedzie's heart stopped. In the dark she clutched Ferriday's arm so
tightly that he ouched. To have her career smashed at its beginning
would be just her luck. It grew suddenly more dear than ever, because
it was imperiled. The thought of having her pictures fail of their
mission throughout the world was as hideous as was the knowledge
to Carlyle that the only manuscript of his history was but a
shovelful of ashes.
Ferriday put his arm about her, and she crept in under his chin for
safety. She felt very cozy to him, there, and he rejoiced that he
had her his at last. Then as before he saw that he was no more to
her than an umbrella or an awning in a shower. He wanted to fling
her away; but she was still to him an invention to patent and
promote. So he told her:
"If you can persuade this Dyckman to boost your career, get behind
you with a bunch of kale and whoop up the publicity, we can stampede
the public, and the little theater managers will mob the exchanges
for reels of you. It's only a question of money, Anita.
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