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"I thought you were ambitious," he said in his gentle voice, a disappointed father.
"I am but I want to be happy too. Look how good I was in the Ziegfeld Follies. I was happy then. No one was shooting guns to make me jump. You don't have to be miserable to be great. I don't believe it."
"What would it take to make you happy ?"
"I can't go back, Mr. Zukor." She burst into tears. "I hate Hollywood! I can't face it again — I can't!" He tried to reason with her.
"Mae, Sweet Kitty is doing excellent business, The Dream Girl is doing excellent business. The critics are raving about you and the public loves you. Besides, don't you understand, you have a three-year contract."
She didn't want to talk about contracts, she knew nothing about contracts.
"I'd need to have Jenny with me," she wailed. "She cooks for me and pets me."
He nodded.
"I have to have someone there I know."
"You may have Jenny. We'll send her along."
"I don't want any more dramatic directors. All this raving and ranting! I like to be gay," she sobbed. "I want someone who knows something about musical comedy."
"Hm. That's a little more difficult, but I think . . ."
"I'd need a lot more money," she cried.
Zukor laughed. He positively laughed. "What is it you're making now, nine hundred ? I told you in the beginning, you have a great potential. The first three pictures have established you and we can afford to raise the ante. Come now, dear. Be a big person. Justify my faith in you. Go back to work."
She dried her eyes. "You'll find me a director who'll understand me ? I would like more close-ups."
Mr. Zukor sighed, he remembered when actors had been of such slight importance the audience didn't even know their names. "I have a fine director in mind, if we can buy him
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