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Updated: May 14, 2025
She went at once to a drugstore and looked up the telephone number and the address of the Hyperfilm Company. She repaid the druggist with a smile and a word of thanks; then she took a street-car to the office. Miss Havender, who was also a scenario-writer and editor, was very busy.
It took him some time to find the Hyperfilm Company's temporary studio. He learned of the fire, and his hope wavered. When he reached the studio Kedzie was not there. The news of her resignation had percolated even to the doorman, who rarely knew anything from inside or outside the studio an excellent non-conductor of information he was.
She could not make head or tail of "the party of the first part" and the terms exacted of movie actors. She understood nothing but the salary. One hundred dollars a week! That bloomed like a rose in the crabbed text. She would have signed almost anything for that. The deed was finally done. Her hundred-odd pounds of flesh belonged to the Hyperfilm Company.
Ferriday sighed, too, for that meant to his knowing soul that she was not long for this movie world. But he did not tell her so. He told her: "You're as wise as you are beautiful. You'll be as famous as you'll be rich. And this Dyckman lad can hurry things up." "How?" asked Kedzie, already foreseeing his game. "The backers of the Hyperfilm Company are getting writer's cramp in the spending hand.
A parental intuition told them that if they wrote to her she would be a long while answering; if they telephoned her she would be out of town. So they came unannounced. It had taken them the whole day to trace her. They learned with dismay that she was no longer "working" at the Hyperfilm Studio.
They did not photograph a thousand feet for every two hundred used. Kedzie's first pictures had gone to the exchanges before the fire, and they were continuing their travels about the world while she was at work revamping the rest. About this time the Hyperfilm managers decided to move their factory to California, where the sempiternal sunlight insured better photography at far less expense.
This little personal Pompeii brought to the dust all the palaces and turrets of her hope upon her head. She whispered to Ferriday: "What are you going to do? Must you make them over again?" He shook his head. "The Hyperfilm Company will probably shut up shop now." "And let my pictures die?" He nodded. She beckoned him close and clung to him, babbling: "What will become of me? Oh, my poor pictures!
But first Kedzie must divorce herself from the Hyperfilm Company. She went to the studio with rage in her heart. She told Ferriday that she would not go to California. He proposed that she break with the Hyperfilm Company and form a corporation of her own with Dyckman as angel. Kedzie was wroth at this. From now on, spending Dyckman's money would be like spending her own.
She rose and paced the floor, shamed, trapped, humbled. The misers of the Hyperfilm Company paid her a beggarly hundred dollars a week! merely featured her among other stars of greater magnitude, while certain women had two thousand a week and were "incorporated," whatever that was!
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