“Not now, Jack. Please,” she murmured.

The car came to a halt in front of the house and the chauffeur hopped out to open the door for them. For a moment nobody moved. Her breasts still tingled painfully where he had grabbed her. After an instant Colin stepped out of the car and extended his hand politely, to help her out. She hesitated for a moment, afraid to spoil whatever chances she might already have built up for herself, yet unable to take the step that ought to clinch her position.

“I’d rather not come in with you now, Jack,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He stiffened perceptibly, bit his lower lip. “Just as you wish, Terry,” he said with dignity. He turned to the chauffeur who was standing by, “Aki, take Miss Stafford home.”

He put his head inside the car, giving her a good look at the hurt expression on his face. “My man will see you safely home,” he said.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said. She wanted to say something else that would smooth over the abrupt denial in her decision but she couldn’t think of anything.

“Good night, Terry,” Colin said.

“Good night,” she replied.

As the car swung down the drive again, she could see him slowly climbing the stairs, his head hung low. She knew he would play the part of the unhappy lover through as long as there was a chance that she was still looking.

She listened to the smooth hum of the wheels on the wet road. Had she bungled it, she asked herself. What else could she have done? It was one thing to make up one’s mind that it was worth abandoning a few principles to gain an end but quite another to go through with it, especially with a man like Colin who not only left her cold but repelled her. Well, he might even look upon her behavior tonight as something that added zest to the affair. But if he did and called her again, then what? Could she get him to land her a screen test before she had definitely to show her hand? Thinking about it left her tired and sad. She closed her eyes and tried to put it out of her mind. When she looked out again, they were driving down darkened, almost deserted Hollywood Boulevard. A few late stragglers turned to look at the slinky limousine as it rolled by. Terry drew back in the corner, indifferent to the effect of the splendor in which she rode. The chauffeur pulled up in front of the apartment house in which she lived and opened the door for her.

“Good night, Miss,” he said as she got out.

“Good night,” she said mechanically.

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