Peter was at his calmest and most effective.
He looked casually about at the scant furniture, the soap boxes heaped with books, the kerosene stove, symbol of Zanin's martyrdom to his art.
“Zanin,” he said, “two things stuck in my mind the other night when you and I had our little talk. One was the fact that you had got hold of a big idea; and that a man of your caliber wouldn't be giving his time to a proposition that didn't have something vital in it.... The other thing is Sue Wilde.”
Zanin was tipped back in an armless wooden chair, taking Peter in with eyes that were shrewd and cold, but not particularly hostile.
“I didn't realize at the time what an impression that girl was making on me. But I haven't been able to shake it off. She has something distinctly unusual--call it beauty, charm, personally--I don't know what it is. But she has it.”
“Yes,” said Zanin, “she has it. But see here, Mann, the whole situation has changed since then--”
Peter nodded, offhand. “Betty Deane has talked to Hy Lowe about it, and Hy has told me. I'm pretty well informed, as a matter of fact.”
“Silverstone? Yes. Tell me, have you closed with him?”
“Well”--Zanin hesitated.. He was disturbed. “Not in writing, no.”
Zanin pursed his lips, hooked his feet around the legs of his chair and tapped on the front of the seat with his large fingers.
“You said you could interest me. Why don't you try?”
“Because Silverstone will. And look what he'll do to your ideas--a conventional commercialist!” Zanin considered this. “I've got to risk that. Or it looks so. This thing can't possibly be done cheap. I propose to do something really new in a feature film--new in groupings, new in lighting, new in the simplicity and naturalness of the acting. It will be a daring theme, highly controversial, which means building up publicity. It will take regular money. Sue is in just the right frame of mind. A year from now God knows what she'll be thinking and feeling. She might turn square against our Village life, all of a sudden. I've seen it happen.... And now, with everything right, here the money comes to me on a platter. Lord, man, I've got to take it--risk or no risk!”
They were about to come to grips. Peter felt his skin turning cold. His throat went dry again, as in the afternoon.