“Up by Grauman’s,” Johnnie answered, snatching the perfume samples from her hand. He uncorked one of the miniature bottles and rubbed the entire contents over his chin. “What do you intend to pay the rent with? Faith?” he asked.

He looked grimy and unlovely sitting there on the mussed bed. She understood that he liked the way things were; he didn’t want her to move.

She was wearing an old white shirt of Walter’s and a pair of Levi’s he’d bought for her at a seamen’s supply shop in New York. She sat down next to Johnnie to put on her sneakers.

“Bring back something to eat, will you?” he asked.

“I have to find another room before Walter comes,” she said.

“Walter! Some sailor whistles and you fall down all in a heap!”

“He’s not some sailor. He’s an actor and a playwright.”

“I know actors. You’d be better off with a sailor.”

They wrangled while she made the bed and Johnnie shaved over the sink with the razor he carried in the pocket of his jacket.

She went off to the drugstore to call Jake Cranford. A woman with a speech defect answered the phone; it seemed to have affected her hearing also, for Annie had to repeat Cranford’s name several times. All at once a bell clanged loudly, drowning out the woman’s voice. There was a momentary silence, then a man said, “Yeah? Jake Cranford here.”

“Mr. Cranford, I met Max Shore yesterday. He said you were giving up your room. He said I might be able to rent it.”

“Not for two weeks I’m not, I don’t think. Who are you?”

“Annie Gianfala,” she said. “Well, do you think I could come and look at it anyhow?”

“Right! Any time.”

“Today?”

There was a deep groan, a whispered “Just a minute.” Had he hung up?

“Mr. Cranford?”

“I let my prescription run out,” his voice came back strongly. “I’m all right now. I’ve got colitis.”

“I’m sorry to call when you’re sick.”

“Never mind. I’m always sick. Yes, come today, after five, all right? The room isn’t bad.”

“I’ll be there then.”

He gave her the house number. “There’s one thing though,” he added. “The place is full of cats. That’s a drawback. It can smell pretty bad.”

“As long as nobody beats them…”

“What?”

“I hope you feel better soon.”

“Never!” he said gaily.

She bought a pack of cigarettes, some oranges and a loaf of bread at a grocer’s. After they had eaten, Johnnie said he had some sewing to pick up from the wardrobe department. She drove out to Paramount Studios with him and waited in the car while he went to fetch it. Outside the gates, on a triangular patch of wiry grass, sat a canvas tepee. In front of the tent flap, spread out on a wooden camp chair, socks and a man’s undershorts were drying in the sunlight. As Annie looked at the tepee wonderingly, the tent flap was pushed aside and a young man emerged wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans and a plaid shirt. With a flourish, he placed a ten-gallon hat on his big head. He felt the underwear, shook his head, then did some fast kneebends. Not one of the people passing back and forth through the studio gates gave him so much as a glance. Johnnie returned after a few minutes clasping a box tied with a string.