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 don't get sore if he puts his hands on you. He likes to squeeze the girls a little bit. But honest, honey, he don't mean anything by it. You'll get used to that around the studios, more or less."

"I hate a fresh guy."

"So do I, honey. That's why I'm putting you wise to everybody in the studio. Binns wouldn't fall for the Queen o' Sheba herself. Bacon's another one of those tough birds. Cold as halibut. Hal Deane—he's the crack director on the lot—he'll single a girl out every once in a while, but he's got to size 'em up a long time before he makes any advances."

Al paused to look at his watch. "You got about fifteen minutes to make up in, honey," he said, falling back into his old patronizing manner. "Now run along and get busy. Don't worry about anything. I'm here to see you through all right."

Al opened the door, gave her a last encouraging smile, then waved her into the dressing room.

The chitter-chatter of twenty girls stopped when Minnie walked among them, looking for an empty place at one of the tables. Afraid of betraying herself, she assumed an indifference which they interpreted as snippiness. She gave a casual nod to the few who looked up and smiled welcome. Then she found a vacant chair and sank down in it with a sigh of relief. She opened her paper parcel and took out the white dress, slippers and stockings. The girls exchanged glances; one pointed to the cheap little dress, another to the cotton lisle stockings, and a third to the slippers.

"Woolworth's," someone said, and a titter ran through the room.

Minnie went mechanically about the business of putting on the make-up, watching out of the corner of her eye the girl on her left. She rubbed off all her face powder with cold