"I have your word--then?"
"My word," she said, looking past his hand toward the door.
He backed out in the somewhat ludicrous crab fashion and then she sat
down, swinging around on her swivel chair toward the desk. The stack of
reports lay facing her. She caught up the next in order.
People's Playhouse. Tulsa, Oklahoma.
For the next half hour she must have sat there trying to co-ordinate out
of chaos by staring at the heading and repeating over and over again:
"_People's Playhouse. Tulsa, Oklahoma. People's Playhouse. Tulsa,
Oklahoma._"
* * * * *
Whistles were blasting through the noonday fog when Bruce finally and
without preamble burst into her office.
It struck her even on the gale of his entrance how young he was that his
hair should show the nervous plowing of five fingers, and how sensitive
his profile and ready to flare at the nostrils. His tie, too, burnt
orange, from a soft collar and badly knotted! She wanted to jerk up his
chin and putter at remaking the four-in-hand.
"Lilly--sweetheart--"
She sat regarding him over the top of People's Playhouse, Tulsa,
Oklahoma.
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