human beings, especially pretty young girls, always seemed a cruel sport to him. Bacon openly ridiculed them, though often his brutality seemed to his victims a sort of coarse appreciation, and many, like Minnie Flynn, never knew how hideous or insinuating was his laughter. Deane's cruelty was more subtle. He made them laugh, hope, and suffer poignantly so that he could analyze their emotions and reactions.
Deane told Minnie briefly but with dramatic emphasis the story of "Women for Sale." She listened dazedly, awed because she was the focus of his attention. Her ears heard little above the beating of her heart.
"It's a great story, isn't it?"
She flushed, "Yeh. It sure is!" she answered nervously. "Thanks awfully for telling it to me, Mr. Deane. He tells stories something swell, don't he?" she asked others.
Beauregard, spitting out another piece of his cigar, swallowed and nodded.
"Well, young lady. What do you think of the part of Margie Tait?"
Minnie wanted to answer quickly and intelligently, but the silence in the room stifled her. So she repeated in the same unsteady voice, rising in crescendo to a titter, "Yeh—I think the part is swell, isn't it?"
"Look here, Miss Flynn. How would you like to play that part? The star in the picture, do you understand?"
"Oh, God—me?"
"Yes, you. I picked you out for it. You're just the type of girl I want. What's more, I believe you can act."
"Oh, Mr. Deane! Honest—Oh, you're kiddin' me!"
"No, he's not," interposed Beauregard. He was growing more uncomfortable. He was beginning to wish that Minnie were a homely girl.
