"Bountiful?" says Mr. Daft. "I never heard of it."
"It's fifty-fifty," I says. "It never heard of you, either! However, while I have lots of dreams in the daytime, moving pictures don't figure in them at all—I mean I never have nightmares, just dreams! The studio game thrills me about the same way it thrills a correspondence school office boy to see a postage stamp. I thank you just the same. And now, just what is the matter with Hazel? Isn't she beautiful, hasn't she got"
"Oh, she's beautiful enough!" says Mr. Daft impatiently. "She's a snappy number and I just know she wears 'em, but she can't troupe! Her brains seem to be out on location too often, get me? In other words, while your girl friend makes a nice display in a bathing suit or an evening gown, she hasn't showed me a thing to make her stand out from a thousand similar beauteous dumbbells that I can have for the asking. You and her don't belong in the same room—she just hasn't got your stuff and that's all there is to it! To please you I'll give her a note to a comedy director who might use her in place of a title as a bathing beauty or"
"Never mind that note," I butt in. "I wouldn't expose you to writer's cramp for the world! Besides, it wouldn't mean anything, really. Hazel would only
