"Next few days," the man at my side said, "I lie out there and pretend I'm dying. Doesn't look like I'll even get a line, but who knows. You need pull, clout, a break, and who do I know, I ask you?"

"That's the way of it," said Wally.

"Should have been me," the man next to me said. "You know I tested for Rhett Butler? I've got the look, the accent, but not the credits. I heard them talking. Gable backs out and they maybe go with me. Why not? Big publicity push. Star is born. Character actor Lionel Varney gets the break he deserves."

"Don't miss any of this, any of this," Selznick was saying more to himself than to Menzies or to Ray Rennahan, who was coordinating the cameras.

The cart with Yak and Dotty was almost across the set now. No turning back. No reshooting.

"No problems. No problems," Selznick muttered.

"It can break a man's heart, his spirit. You know?" Varney said at my side.

"Tough business," I said.

"Wasn't for Gable I'd be trying on white hats with big brims, smoking thin cigars, paying my bills with cash, kissing Paulette Goddard in front of the cameras," said Varney. "I'm a better actor."

"I heard Goddard's out," I said, wondering if the gaffer off camera far to the left was moving forward onto the set. I nudged Wally, who looked where I was pointing.

"I know him," said Wally. "No problem there."

"Gable's fault," Varney said. "He doesn't need this movie. He's the king. I need it. And instead of wearing fancy clothes, I'll be dying in dirty gray down there tomorrow. Is that fair or is that fair?"

It was typical Hollywood feel-sorry-for-myself, I'm-a-better-actor-than-Paul-Muni banter, but Varney was spilling it to a stranger, a stranger who had been hired to keep people with grudges and a passion for publicity from damaging the biggest movie ever made.

The cart cleared the set and rumbled into the darkness.