But why?
It's part of the game. Griesheimer wouldn't have any respect for Hallam if he didn't waste money. He has to waste more jack than any other director to maintain his position. In each succeeding picture he has to waste more than he did on the one before. It's part of the bunk.
But doesn't Griesheimer know it's bunk?
Of course he knows. He groans and moans and swings his arms about and curses and yells that Hallam's got to cut down expenses, and Hallam gets more profane still and swears he'll leave the lousy joint and go to work for Invincible, but both of 'em know they're only acting a scene and Hallam knows if he spent a penny less that Griesheimer would think he was no good. So they compromise by paying some extra girl nine instead of ten dollars a day and then Hallam orders a flock of solid-gold gondolas or imports Zuloaga to paint a drawing-room set for a script that revolves about the life of a New England farmer.
As time went on Ambrose had further opportunity to study this habit of Hallam's, not altogether, he learned, idiosyncratic with this director. The playwright, after his first day on the lot, secured from Lawrence a copy of the script, which he read, but
