They were more willing to give Luck the free hand which he demanded, had negotiations ever reached that far, which they did not.
The Happy Family, Luck was forced to admit to himself, was a very serious handicap for an out-of-work director to carry at the beginning of the rainy season.

He did his best, and he spent two sleepless nights over the doing, but he simply could not land them anywhere.

He talked himself hoarse for them, he painted them geniuses all; he declared that they would make themselves and their company--supposing they were accepted--famous for Western pictures.

He worked harder to place them in the business than he would ever work to find himself a job, and he failed absolutely.
Dewitt's eyes questioned him the moment he stood inside the office.
Dewitt had heard something of Luck's efforts since their last meeting; and although he admired Luck the more for his loyalty, he felt quite certain that now he was convinced of his defeat, Luck would hesitate no longer over stepping into the official shoes of Robert Grant Burns, who was lying on his broad back, and shouting pitifully futile commands to his company and asking an imaginary camera-man questions which were as Greek to the soft-footed nurse.

Dewitt, having just come from a visit to Burns, had a vivid mental picture of that ward in the Sister's hospital.
But alongside that picture was another, quite as vivid, of Luck Lindsay standing beside Pete Lowry's camera with a script in his hand, explaining to Jean Douglas the business of some particular scene.
"Well ?" queried Dewitt, and motioned Luck to a chair.
"Well," Luck echoed, and stopped for a breath.