A Cinema Picture

Hamilton was staying with Sanders--late Commissioner of a certain group
of Territories--and Bones was the subject of conversation one morning
at breakfast.

The third at the table was an exceedingly pretty girl, whom the maid
called "Madame," and who opened several letters addressed to "Mrs.
Sanders," but who in days not long past had been known as Patricia
Hamilton.

"Bones is wonderful," said Sanders, "truly wonderful! A man I know in
the City tells me that most of the things he touches turn up trumps.
And it isn't luck or chance. Bones is developing a queer business
sense."

Hamilton nodded.

"It is his romantic soul which gets him there," he said. "Bones will
not look at a proposition which hasn't something fantastical behind it.
He doesn't know much about business, but he's a regular whale on
adventure. I've been studying him for the past month, and I'm
beginning to sense his method. If he sees a logical and happy end to
the romantic side of any new business, he takes it on. He simply
carries the business through on the back of a dream."

The girl looked up from the coffee-pot she was handling.

"Have you made up your mind, dear?"

"About going in with Bones?" Hamilton smiled. "No, not yet. Bones is
frantically insistent, has had a beautiful new Sheraton desk placed in
his office, and says that I'm the influence he wants, but----"

He shook his head.

"I think I understand," said Sanders. "You feel that he is doing it
all out of sheer generosity and kindness. That would be like Bones.
But isn't there a chance that what he says is true--that he does want a
corrective influence?"