They were, Lee knew, talking about Mina Raff, a friend of Anette's
earlier summers by the sea who was beginning to be highly successful in
the more serious moving pictures. He had met her a number of years ago,
in Eastlake, but he retained no clear impression of her; and, admitting
that he hadn't gone to see her in a picture, wondered aloud at her
sudden fame. Peyton Morris glanced at him, frowning; he seemed at the
point of vigorous speech, then said nothing.

"Mina is lovely now, Lee," Anette spoke in his place; "you will realize
that at once. She's like a--a wistful April moon, or corn silk."

"I like black hair," Randon asserted.

"That's amusing, when you think Fanny's is quite brown," Anette
replied. "Whom have you been meeting with black hair? There's none I
can remember in Eastlake."

"There isn't anybody in particular," Lee reassured her; "it is just an
idea of mine." He had a vision of intense black hair swept about an
enigmatic still smile, of an old gilt headdress. "Mina Raff must have
developed if she gets half the pay advertised."

"She'll get twice that when this contract expires," Peyton put in; "and
that will be increased again. No one on the screen can touch her." He
made these declarations in a manner both shadowed and aggressive. Lee
observed that he held a cigarette in one hand and a match in the other
with no effort at conjunction.

"Mina simply tells you everything," Anette continued. "If she comes you
must do your best. It's perfectly marvelous, with so much else, that