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could kill, we four would have dropped stone dead on the oilcloth. Brokenly we explained that we had been marooned all night on an engine-broken yacht. Heads were tossed so high at that that it was a wonder they didn't come off altogether. Never had vile suspicion so clearly been expressed in silence. Nothing but our ravenous hunger could have kept us suppliant there. At last these virtuous gorgons yielded enough to perceive that, deep in sin as we might be, they need not demand our death by starvation at their door, and reluctantly they served breakfast. The joyful avidity with which we consumed it must have been a shock to these sinless sisters who were waiting to see us choke.
But even sailing must not be allowed to interfere with films. The Christmas holidays were practically over and we all arrived at our homes before lunch time that day. And with the dawning of 19 19, with the lifting of the dreadful load of war from our minds and bodies, a load which seemed even heavier in retrospect than it did in reality, we could, breathing freely once more, settle down to full production again. We were still a little crippled by the absence of those men who had been left to us, it is true, longer than we had dared to hope because we were deemed to be doing work of some slight national importance, but we did not know when we could expect them back at work.
However, they began to return fairly early. Tom White was the first — of course, he would be — and he was a very valuable re-recruit. He says it was an accident but I have my own opinion about that. It was in January and he found himself unloaded in the snow with a lot of other fellows, going to some place for further duties. He went up to a sergeant who asked him where he belonged. He gave the sergeant ten shillings and told him. 'No you don't,' the sergeant said, 'you belong over there.' So he went over there, and joined a little group, who were almost immediately demobbed! That's the sort of chap he was. He is general manager of Pinewood Studios now.
The Hep worth Manufacturing Company Ltd. were to be found at 2, Denman Street, Piccadilly, with myself as managing director and Paul Kimberley as general manager, and its greatest artistic strength lay in Chrissie White, Alma Taylor and Henry Edwards.
In a review of the year 19 19 my good friend G. A. Atkinson speaks of a general feeling at the beginning of the year that 'England would never be the same again' which, of course, turned out to be very much truer than he thought: wars do have
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