"
"Good God! You--poor--"
"I'm not pleading for your sympathy, Mr. Visigoth. Only a square deal.
Will you give it?"
He walked over to his desk, turning on a green-shaded bulb, the clip
back in his voice and manner.
"That will be all for this evening, Mrs. Parlow--"
"Penny."
"Mrs. Penny," he said, picking up a random sheaf of papers and not
meeting her eyes. "I want you to go over to Newark Monday afternoon and
bring back a report on an act over there; and, by the way, you are to
begin your new week in the booking department at twenty dollars."
She wanted to speak and her lips did move, but the tears anticipated
her, and, blink as she would, they sprang, magnifying her glance, and
besides, there were footsteps coming up the flight of stairs that led
from the stage entrance, and a young, a lean, a honed silhouette rather
suddenly in the doorway, the right side borne down by the pull of a
dress-suit case.
"R.J?" Peering into the gloom.
"Good Lord!" from the figure at the desk, leaning forward on the palm of
his hand. "That you, Bruce?"
They met center, gripping hands.
"When did you get in, youngster? Didn't expect you for another couple of
days.
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