—No, Marcus said with a smile. By we, I generally refer to the studio. But more specifically, I’m referring to Mr. Selznick, our chief; and Jack Warner over at Warner Brothers, where Miss de Havilland is still under contract. They both have a keen interest in Miss de Havilland’s welfare.

—Ah, said Miss Ross. And exactly what sorts of missteps are they imagining? Surely they’re not afraid of another broken shoulder strap?

—Of course not, said Marcus with a light laugh (followed by a thoughtful pause). Through no fault of her own, a young woman in Miss de Havilland’s position is exposed to a variety of hazards. Over the course of time, there are bound to be . . . unfortunate encounters . . . awkward entanglements . . . ill-advised alliances . . .

Miss Ross exhibited an expression of mild surprise.

—Encounters, entanglements, and alliances! Mr. Benton, that doesn’t sound like a favor. That sounds like a job . . .

Having let their minds wander in the heat of the afternoon, the disparate souls of the jury looked up in unison. For whether they had spent their years of Christian toil on the floor of a mill or behind a plow—a day’s wage for a day’s work was something they well understood.

Mr. Benton opened his mouth.

Miss Ross raised her eyebrows.

But it was an impatient voice in the waiting room that broke the silence.

They both looked back at the replicated oaken door, which flew open to admit a man in his late thirties with rolled up sleeves and wire-rimmed glasses.

—Is this her?

—David . . .

He turned to look at Miss Ross.

—What does she say?

—We were just finishing up. I’ll come and find you on the set as soon as we’re done.

Ignoring Marcus, David pushed back the stacks of paper and sat on the edge of the desk.

—Miss Ross, isn’t it? I’m David O. Selznick, the head of the studio.

David paused to make sure the full measure of this declaration could be taken. When Miss Ross acted suitably impressed, he continued:

—At this moment, we are in the midst of making what could well be the greatest motion picture of all time. And I have left the set for one reason: to tell you the most closely guarded secret of Hollywood.

Miss Ross cast a quick glance at Marcus, then sat up with an expression of scholastic enthusiasm. While for his part, David barreled ahead—speaking with his trademark urgency, attention to detail, and utter disregard for whether what he was saying was furthering or confounding his purpose.