to a young man with a profile that made it impossible to doubt he was a screen favourite. Auburn's mother completed the party.
Sit down, please, Auburn invited. Are you expecting some one?
I'm lunching with Wilhelmina Ford, he explained, but she isn't here yet.
Wilhelmina Ford? Don't know her. I want to thank you for what you have done for me.
Done for you? . . . He was bewildered. . . . I should be thanking you.
Nonsense. I was only selfish when I took you to Griesheimer. I thought you might do a story for me. Besides, she went on more jocularly, I like to annoy Imperia. She is so possessive. And now you have created this adorable Spider Boy!
But I thought . . . they told me . . . Dick Ruby, he sputtered tactlessly.
Dick Ruby! in a picture with me! . . . She laughed. . . . Mother, that is a joke.
The young man with the profile agreed that it was.
Ambrose was wondering what to say. Philip Lawrence had assured him that his story was for a male star, but after all, now that it appeared to have a
