He went out through the office, meaning to thank the casting director for the great favour she had shown him, but she was gone.

He hoped the headache had not driven her home.
If she were to suffer again he hoped it would be some morning.

He would have the Eezo wafers in one pocket and a menthol pencil in the other.
And she would again extend to him the freedom of that wonderful city.
In his room that night he tried to smooth out the jumble in his dazed mind.

Those people seemed to say so many things they considered funny but that were not really funny to any one else.

And moving-picture plays were always waiting for something, with the bored actors lounging about in idle apathy.