His breakfast tray was shown piled with missives amply attesting the truth of what the interviewer had said of his charm.

All women seemed to adore Hubert Throckmorton in the drama, even as all women adored Harold Parmalee in private life.
The screen revealed Throckmorton quite savagely ripping open the letters, glancing at their contents and flinging them from him with humorous shudders.

He seemed to be asking why these foolish creatures couldn't let an artist alone.

Yet he was kindly, in this half-humorous, half-savage mood.

There was a blending of chagrin and amused tolerance on his face as the screen had him murmur, casting the letter aside, "Poor, Silly Little Girls!" From this early scene Merton learned Parmalee's method of withdrawing the gold cigarette case, of fastidiously selecting a cigarette, of closing the case and of absently--thinking of other matters--tamping the gold-tipped thing against the cover.