“Edith waited in the shade outside the Wardrobe building as we approached, a dark-haired man at her side. “Oh, marvelous,” Ken said. “This guy and his antics.” The man must have been telling a whale of a tale, because Edith rocked back and forth laughing. He leaped up and imitated an airplane, swooping in a circle then sputtering into a crash dive that landed him in his seat with a jolt. “So as parties go,” the man said, “it wasn’t bad.” Edith caught her breath and made the introductions. “May I... present Preston Sturges.” Mr. Sturges rose to take my hand, clicking his heels together. Or trying to; his woven kidskin loafers looked soft enough to sleep on. His wide shoulders filled out a well-tailored jacket with huge checks. A trim mustache balanced jauntily over a wide grin. “Preston is a writer, but if you ask me he’d make a marvelous actor.” “You know it’s the director’s chair or bust. Any job that comes with its own furniture is the one for me.” Ken declared himself a great admirer of Mr.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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