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 California. If you want Indians there is a whole encampment near Culver City. There are orange groves and avocados and balmy breezes and acacias. . ..

But I am going to visit a friend. . ..

A friend! Who can be more of a friend to you than I am? I have made up my mind, she went on fretfully. Don't contradict me. Don't argue. You are going to Hollywood to write a script for me, Imperia Starling. I shall insist that Invincible give you a contract at once. You shall stay with me in my little bungalow at Beverly Hills. It is all arranged.

''But. . .''

I insist. We'll settle the details tomorrow. You are giving me a terrific headache with your arguments. I always have my way. Elissa! Where is that girl?

The door opened and a frightened face appeared in the aperture.

Elissa, my smelling salts. . . and a bottle of malt extract. . . and some rice wafers. . . and she turned to Ambrose: Dear Mr. Deacon, you are adorable, and I shall see you tomorrow, when I am feeling better, to further discuss our plans.