H. Bedford-Jones

“ There's no other man I could give it to, Mr. Larrigan—but if you would accept it, you would give me great pleasure."
"Larrigan gazed at the scarf-pin, an abalone blister mounted in gold.
It came to him that this was a very precious tribute, a tribute from the woman's heart, meaning more than words could say.
Jim Bleeker had other friends, of course—wealthy friends, college friends, all that a man of his standing would have. But he, Larrigan, had been Bleeker's bunky in France, had watched Jim Bleeker die, had been more to Jim Bleeker than any man alive. ”

“ Reever Keene, the man who had snapped asunder his fabulous contract a year ago in order to enlist as a private; Reever Keene, whose pictures were the greatest drawing-card in every theater of the country!
He had sent no notice of his coming, but the studio knew of it and was ready. As the Overland drew in, sixteen automobiles were waiting, and these automobiles were the cream of motion-picture motordom. All Los Angeles knew that the aluminum car with purple trimmings was Reever Keene's; that his director owned the pea-green Twin Duplex striped with canary ”

“ The president grunted. He was a wise man, or he would not have been in his present position.
"Keene takes up his contract where he left off," he returned. "That's all I'm worrying about! Let Keene run the whole damned place if he wants. If you'd gone into the army, my son, instead of sitting on your draft-proof job, the Lord knows you'd be a damned sight better director!"
The director looked at his leather puttees and said no more.
"Where's Lola?" asked Reever Keene, driving to the studios in his own car once more, his leading lady and chief supports gathered around him. ”

“ Is he going to chuck, his job?"
"Not him," said the director confidently. "Besides, he's under contract to us, and if he broke the contract—"
"He'd be finished, absolutely!" declared the president. "He's no fool!"
The president was playing both ends against the middle, which is a wise game—sometimes.
IV. Reever Keene had been too long in the movie game, and was taking too much money out of it, to have any artistic temperament—that is, when he was on the lot. Movie folk have to keep their temperament out of business. ”

“ Yes. He remembered hideously the glee with which he had nonchalantly signed that five-thousand-dollar check, and the delight with which he had seen the check pictured in the papers.
"You've been away a hell of a long time, old sport!" and his director clapped him on the back. "But now you're back to the life—the only life, boy!"
"Right you are!" cried Reever Keene, bracing his shoulders. "Let's have a drink!"
III. The fact that Reever Keene, home from the army, insisted on working with an abalone blister in his scarf, was an idiosyncrasy good for three-day comment in the press. ”

“ And there ain't any punch, not a bit; it's one o' them bleedin'-heart things, and it ain't got—"
"It's got Reever Keene in it," snapped the president, "and that's enough to put it across anywhere. Do you get me?"
The director departed, weeping.
Worse was to come, however. Reever Keene sold his gorgeous car, and showed up with a plain green-black affair—not even a victoria top to it! Lola refused to ride in the wretched thing, and Keene swore; and the end of this matter was a fine quarrel which the press-agent featured without the least opposition. ”

“ They eat it, the people do!"
"If you knew the money we'd spent on this set," began the property-man plaintively. But Keene interrupted.
"What would you suggest, then?"
"Just what I ordered set up!" returned the director. "Statuary. A nude on the wall. Some o' this here lacquered Chinese furniture—we got Bent's whole store to draw on, and you know the best people ain't buying anything else but lacquered, which shows up like real money. Then that high-colored rug, and so forth. It 'll be toned down fine in the film, Keene."
"Maybe so, maybe so," said Reever Keene. ”

“ The story was a society story, right enough. For three days the company was on location at the Billingkamp residence—you remember, of course, Billingkamp's Canned Soups—and the exteriors were gorgeous affairs. ”