U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [516]
"Very beautiful y said, dear lady. . . . Miss Dowling darling, Continental Attractions at ten. .
. . I'l have somebody stationed at the gate so that they'l let your chauffeur drive right to my office. It is impossible to reach
-400-me by phone. Even Irwin can't get at me when I am work-ing on a picture. It wil be an experience for you to see me at work."
"Wel , if I can manage it and my chauffeur can find the way."
"You'l come," said Margolies and dragged Irwin Harris away by one short white flannel arm into the dining-room. Wel dressed people stared after them as they went. Then they were staring at Margo and Agnes. "Let's go to the dogwagon and tel Tony. They'l just think we are eccentric, " whispered Margo in Agnes's ear. "I declare I never imagined the Margolies was him."
"Oh, isn't it wonderful," said Agnes.
They were so excited they couldn't eat. They drove
back to Santa Monica that night and Margo went straight to bed so as to be rested for the next morning.
Next morning when they got to the lot at a quarter
of ten Mr. Margolies hadn't sent word. Nobody had
heard of an appointment. They waited half an hour.
Agnes was having trouble keeping back the tears. Margo was laughing. "I bet that bozo was ful of hop or some-thing and forgot al about it." But she felt sick inside. Tony had just started the motor and was about to pul away because Margo didn't like being seen waiting at the gate like that when a white Pierce Arrow custombuilt towncar with Margolies al in white flannel with a white beret sit-ting alone in the back diove up alongside. He was' peering into the Rol s-Royce and she could see him start with surprise when he recognized her. He tapped on the window of his car with a porcelainheaded cane. Then he got out of his car and reached in and took Margo by the hand.
"I never apologize. . . . It is often necessary for me to keep people waiting. You wil come with me. Perhaps your friend wil cal for you at five o'clock. . . . I have much to tel you and to show you."
They went upstairs in the elevator in a long plainfaced
-401-building. He ushered her through several offices where young men in their shirtsleeves were working at drafting-boards, stenographers were typing, actors were waiting on benches. " Frieda, a screentest for Miss Dowling right away, please," he said as he passed a secretary at a big desk in the last room. Then he ushered her into his own office hung with Chinese paintings and a single big carved gothic chair set in the glare of a babyspot opposite a huge carved gothic desk. "Sit there, please. . . . Margo darling, how can I explain to you the pleasure of a face unsmirched by the camera? I can see that there is no strain. . . . You do not care. Celtic freshness combined with insouciance of noble Spain. . . . I can see that you've never been before a camera before. . . . Excuse me." He sank in the deep chair behind his desk and started telephoning. Every now and then a stenographer came and took notes that he recited to her in a low voice. Margo sat and sat. She thought Margolies had forgotten her. The room was warm and stuffy and began to make her feel sleepy. She was fighting to keep her eyes open when Margolies jumped up from his desk and said, "Come, darling, we'l go down now."
Margo stood around for a while in front of some cam-eras in a plasterysmel ing room in the basement and then Margolies took her to lunch at the crowded restaurant on the lot. She could feel that everybody was looking up from their plates to see who the new girl was that Margolies was taking to lunch. While they ate he asked her ques-tions about her life on a great sugarplantation in Cuba, and her debutante girlhood in New York. Then he talked about Carlsbad and Baden-Baden and Marienbad and how Southern California was getting over its early ridiculous vulgarity: "We have everything here that you can find anywhere," he said.
After lunch they went to see the rushes in the projection-room. Mr. Harris turned up too, smoking a cigar. Nobody
-402-said