It's not such a pretty name for the screen," Beauregard said in his soft colorless voice, made so expressionless by his desire to simulate the cultured tone of a gentleman. "Don't you think we had better suggest to the young lady that she change it?"
"If she doesn't mind."
"Gee, of course not. I've got another name. Do you think MacNally is any better than Flynn?"
Weaver looked swiftly to the ceiling and put his tongue in his cheek. Minnie saw the gesture and hated him for it. It reminded her of Pete. Like a bird in swift flight Minnie's thoughts flew home, and for a breathless second she felt sharp pangs akin to ecstasy as she visualized her triumphant return. How she would astonish them, tantalize them, how she would shame them by her generosities. The men's voices were droning in her ears, but she stood there transfixed, numbed by the poignant satisfaction of a contemplated revenge upon Pete, then caressed by the conjured vision of Billy, Jimmie and her father in new suits and flaming neckties, with silver-foil wrapped cigars protruding from vest pockets. . . . And she was drunk with this ecstasy of sudden possession.
"We've been talking over several noms de plume, Miss Flynn," began Beauregard. "We——"
"A new name for you!" The sharp, decisive inflections of Deane's voice brought her back to sudden consciousness. "Mr. Beauregard thinks it wiser to give you another name."
"Yes, we are planning to christen you today."
"Oh, but Mr. Beauregard, I ain't dressed for a christenin'. I———"
Smiles.
"Not a formal christening, Miss Flynn." Beauregard slowly lowered his lids over the protruding eyeballs, and more slowly smiled. He was beginning to be attracted by the prettiness
