Herbert James Draper Pot Pourri

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Dibbler raised his hands. ‘I said I’d raise the money somehow,’ he said, ‘and Sham Harga’s even helping us with the food for the barbecue scene.’
‘You said you weren’t going to interfere with the script!’
‘That’s not interfering,’ said Dibbler stolidly. ‘I don’t see how that could be considered interfering. I just polished it up here and there. I think it’s rather an improvement. Besides, Harp’s All‑You­Can‑Gobble‑For‑A‑Dollar is amazing value these days.’
‘But the click is set hundreds of years ago!’ shouted Soll.
‘We=ell,’ ‘Right. Certainly. Gaspode, stay. There’s a good dog.’ Victor derived a quiet satisfaction from the brief look of pure disgust that flashed across Gaspode’s face.
Behind them the eternal Holy Wood argument had wound said Dibbler. ‘I suppose someone could say, "I wonder if the food at Harga’s House of Ribs will still be as good in hundreds of years’ time‑" ‘‘That isn’t moving pictures. That is crass commerce!’‘I hope so,’ said Dibbler. ‘We’re in real trouble if it isn’t.’‘Now look‑‘ Soll began, threateningly.Ginger turned to Victor.‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’ she said, quietly. ‘Without your dog,’ she added, in her normal voice. ‘Definitely without your dog.’‘You want to talk to me?’ said Victor.‘There hasn’t been much of a chance, has there?’