“There’s already been some,” said Hastings, crossing his legs which were encased in pale multicolor slacks with rawhide sandals on his feet. “There was a piece yesterday in the _News_ about the meetings they’ve been having up near Laguna or wherever it is he’s been speaking this time.” “What did they say?” Clarissa scattered tiny saccharine tablets into her coffee like a grain goddess preparing harvest. “Oh, just one of those short suburban notes about how a Mr Joseph Cave, they got the name wrong, was giving a series of lectures at a funeral parlor which have been surprisingly well attended.” “They didn’t mention what the lectures were about?” “No, just a comment: the first one so far in Los Angeles.” “There’ll be others soon but I shouldn’t think it’s such a good idea to have too many items like that before things are really under way.” “And the gentleman who is coming here will be responsible for getting them under way?” I asked. “Pretty much, yes. It’s been decided that the practical details are to be left to him. Cave will continue to speak in and around Los Angeles until the way has been prepared. Then, when the publicity begins, he will be booked all over the country, all over the world!” Clarissa rocked silently for a moment in her chair, creating a disagreeable effect of noiseless laughter which disconcerted both Hastings and me. “I don’t like your attitude,” said Hastings, looking at her gloomily. “You aren’t _serious_.” “Oh I am, my darling, I am. You’ll never know how serious.” And on that high note of Clarissa’s, Paul Himmell stepped out onto the patio, blinking in the light of noon. He was a slender man in his fortieth and most successful year, with hair only just begun to gray and a lined but firmly modeled face, bright with ambition. The initial impression was one of neatly contained energy, of a passionate temperament beautifully, usefully channeled. The twist to his bow tie was the work of a master craftsman. The handshake was agreeable; the smile was quick and engaging; the effect on me was alarming: I had detested this sort of man all my life and here at last, wearing a repellently distinguished sports coat was the archetype of all such creatures, loading with a steady hand that cigarette holder without which he might at least have seemed to me still human. He was identified by Hastings who, with a few excited snorts and gasps, told me beneath the conversation that this was the most successful young publicist in Hollywood, which meant the world.