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deep emotion, Chaplin watched his reactions with incredulous eyes, in which a faint hope dawned.
When the lights went up again, Goldwyn was silent, while poor Charlie fidgeted beside him and grew sick with despair. "Charlie— if this is the last picture you were ever destined to make, you'd go down into history with it."
"Gosh! — You're not just cheering me up? You do honestly think it's good?"
"Listen — what you've got is a bad attack of movie blues! Try it out on some others. I'll give a dinner over at my studio, and we'll show it afterwards."
"Maybe. But if you're going through with it, you'd better sec it's a good dinner — they'll need it ! "
Goldwyn never has done things by halves. Among those invited to his excellent dinner on this occasion were Somerset Maugham, Edward Knoblock, Elinor Glyn, Rupert Hughes, Rex Beach, Elsie Ferguson, Pauline Frederick and Sir Gilbert Parker.
As the film wound its length, Chaplin, petrified with mingled terror and timidity, sat huddled on the fringe of the crowd. But of all the private previews Goldwyn had either given or attended, there had never before been one like this. Chaplin nearly disappeared beneath the onslaught. Every woman present wanted to kiss him, every man slapped him on his aching back, and never before in his wholly successful film career had he been complimented so sincerely in such glowing terms. All the women had wept, and some of the men. Chaplin, bathed in their tears, warmed by their kisses, shattered by their backslapping and their almost frantic admiration and excitement, turned pale and giddy.
It was Elinor Glyn who released the tension. Soulfully she said, in her grandest manner, "This is the finest film I have ever seen in my life!"
"Have you seen many?"
"Well— no. This is my first."
Once The Kid was well launched on its meteoric career, and Chaplin's misgivings about it set at rest, he began work on his next film, The Idle Class, finished it in record time, and started another immediately. The sets were built, the actors engaged and in attendance for a big scene, made up and in costume. A hundred extras were dressed and ready, in addition. At that moment, Chaplin decided to go to Europe, in spite of the waiting crowd, and the four months' work already put in on the film. Nothing could move him from his decision — persuasion, cajolery, anger, the thought of wastage. He blandly announced that he was going; and went. Apparently "A steak and