So, through three weeks of that Hollywood autumn, they waited, each of them, for the call to work; and while their funds shrank, they met regularly for meals and they took strolls together and she gave to him most of her evenings. He spun his droning reminiscences of dusty years and deplored the changes worked by a devastating modernism, and she postured and posed and, bit by bit, built up and rounded out her amended characterization--a self-adopted daughter of the Lamars and Claytons--and constantly did her level best to look and act and be the part. This went on until the end of the third week, at which point Destiny, operating through the agency of Mr. Andrew Gillespie, took a hand in their commingled affairs. Gillespie, coming in off the lot to the head offices, was pleasantly excited over his new notion. He revealed it with no preamble: "Say, you two, I've got an idea for livening up that big fight scene a little bit." The executive head gave a grunt which terminated in a groan. He craved to swear; but not even Mr. M. Lobel, of Lobel's Superfilms, Inc., dared swear now. Employees whose salaries ranged above a certain figure might be groaned at but could not, with impunity, be sworn at. The ethics forbade it; also such indulgence might result in the loss of a desired director or a popular star. And Gillespie appertained to the polar list of the high salaried. So Mr. Lobel merely groaned. "What's the matter?" asked Gillespie sharply. "Nothing, nothing at all, only I am thinking," rejoined Mr. Lobel, with sorrowful resignation. "I am thinking that only two days ago right here in this very room you promised me that positively without a question you would keep down the expensives from now on on this here dam' costume production which already it has run up into money something frightful." "Who said I was going to spend any more money?" "An idea you just mentioned, Gillespie," stated Mr. Lobel, "and with you I got to say it that ideas are usually always expensive." "This thing won't cost anything--it won't cost a cent over a couple of hundred for salary, costumes, props and all, if it costs that much. And it'll put a little note of newness, a kind of different touch into that battle scene; that's what I'm counting on." "Oh, well, Gillespie, in that case--" The grief was lifting from Mr. Lobel. He turned to his second in command. "Wasn't I only just now saying to you, Milton, that Gillespie is the one always for novelties?" The director chose to disregard the compliment. "Do you recall that handsome-looking old scout that I brought back with me here last month from the Southern trip?" "Like a skinny Santa Claus, huh? Sure, I seen him," said Mr. Lobel, "and wondered what you was maybe going to do with him." "Me, too," said Mr. Liebermann, affectionately known among lesser members of the staff as "Oh-yes-yes Milton." "The one with the w'ite w'iskez, you mean. Also I wondered about him."