complete metamorphosis. Do you know where Harold is?
No, Zimbule, I wish I did.
I hear she's left him! Zimbule was eager.
You hear . . . Campaspe permitted an expression of light surprise to play over her features, an expression not unnoted by Zimbule.
Yes. I met Cupid in the Park. He told me.
It is true. They are separated, but he left her.
Zimbule ignored this echo of an event she had every desire to forget, and begged: Where is he, Campaspe? Help me find him.
I wish I could. . . . But tell me about yourself. You're doing pictures?
Zimbule was frankly bored. She pulled great tufts of down out of a quilt of colibri feathers which she had drawn over her knee. Yes, she assented, I'm in the movies.
What company?
Zimbule O'Grady Incorporated. Capital $200,000. Zimbule yawned.
When do you start work?
Commenced a week ago. I'm not in the scenes today.
What is the picture called?
A Long Island Phryne. . . . Campaspe, please help me to find Harold.
I haven't an idea where to look. She paused. That's an interesting picture you have. She pointed to the Metzinger.
