I've been writing scenarios for two years now." "We both got to be patient," he pointed out.

"We can't succeed all at once, just remember that." "Oh, I'm patient, and I'm determined; and I know you are, too, Merton.
But the way my things keep coming back--well, I guess we'd both get discouraged if it wasn't for our sense of humour." "I bet we would," agreed Merton.

"And good-night!" He went on to the Gashwiler Emporium and let himself into the dark store.

At the moment he was bewailing that the next installment of The Hazards of Hortense would be shown on a Saturday night, for on those nights the store kept open until nine and he could see it but once.

On a Tuesday night he would have watched it twice, in spite of the so-called comedy unjustly sharing the bill with it.
Lighting a match, he made his way through the silent store, through the stock room that had so lately been the foul lair of Snake le Vasquez, and into his own personal domain, a square partitioned off from the stockroom in which were his cot, the table at which he studied the art of screen acting, and his other little belongings.