Harold frowns at him and walks over to Miss Vincent.
"How do you do, Miss Vincent," he says, takin' off his hat and presentin' her with a bow. "I knew you at once from your photographs. I have a remarkable memory, inherited from my father. The late J. P. Morgan once said of him, during the course of a gigantic stock deal, that—but enough of personalities. I saw you in the 'Escapades of Eva.'"
"Did you like me?" smiles Miss Vincent.
"Very much!" Harold tells her. "Although the mediocre support and execrable direction spoiled most of your opportunities. Now if I had directed that picture, you would have been a great deal—"
"Joosta wan minoote!" butts in Genaro, gettin' red in the face. "I, Genaro, directed that picture!"
Harold looks over at him and lights a cigarette.
"Well," he says, flickin' the ash in Genaro's drinkin' glass, "I daresay you did your best! But had I been there when the picture was being produced, I would have suggested a great many things that would have greatly improved it. I remember calling Belasco's attention to a detail one time and Dave said to me—"
"Enough!" snaps Genaro, glarin' at him. "You will report to Meester Duke. He'sa tella you what to do. Or maybe," he snorts, "maybe you tella heem!"
And he stamps out of the office.
"What a quaint little man!" says Harold, sittin' down in Genaro's chair and glancin' with interest over some letters that was on his desk. "How do those chaps ever get into the movies?"