All Hollywood's been calling me up asking for jobs, Ambrose informed Lawrence.
Philip threw back his head and laughed. Of course they would, he said. I hadn't thought of that. What'd you tell 'em?
I had the 'phone shut off.
Right. You're getting on to this racket. Besides you won't have anything to do with the casting. Any old-timer would know that. It's these fresh new extra girls that don't understand. There's no chance for them anyway. Well, of course . . . Philip made a reservation . . . you could get your own dame in.
Ignoring this suggestion, Ambrose sought desired information. What's the real story? he inquired.
Philip showed signs of embarrassment. He knocked the ashes out of his pipe before he explained: You see, here—not only on this lot but on all the others—there are wheels within wheels. You've got to humour the executives. You've got to humour the directors. You've got to humour the stars. They're all just a lot of dumb kids. You can't do anything directly. You've got to approach 'em with wile.
Philip, looking guilty, paused. Ambrose with growing alarm demanded: What have you done?
Now, I don't want you to get excited. I only
