Their
confusion Luck set down to a becoming modesty. He went on planning and
perfecting details. Standing as he did on the threshold of a career to which
his one big success had opened the door, he was wholly absorbed in making
good.
There was nothing now to balk his progress, he told himself. He had his
company, he had the location for his big range stuff, he bad all the financial
backing any reasonable man could want. He had a salary that in itself gauged
the prestige he had gained among producers, and as an added incentive to do
the biggest work of his life he had a contract giving him a royalty on all
prints of his pictures in excess of a fixed number. Better than all this, he
had big ideals and an enthusiasm for the work that knew no limitations.
Perhaps he was inclined to dream too big; per-haps he assumed too great an
enthusiasm on the part of those who worked with him--I don't know just where
he did place the boundary line. I do know that he never once suspected the
Happy Family of any meditated truancy from the ranch and his parting
instructions to "sit tight." I also know that the Happy Family was not at all
likely to volunteer information of their lapse.
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