Near Mr. Kennerley on the deck of the Majestic stood Jules Mast-baum, cinema magnate. He submitted to the routine of cameras and notebooks with such a look of satisfaction as a man might wear who had just nipped off the end of a fine cigar or buried his nose in the bouquet of an old bottle.
Or perhaps he did not wear any such expression perhaps it was merely the fancy of the beholders to perceive it, for everyone was thinking that Mr. Mastbaum had reason to be, and even to look, satisfied; he...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
