Clancy looked up. In the doorway—she had left the door ajar—stood a tall young woman, a blonde. She entered without invitation and smiled cheerfully at Clancy. She whirled on one shapely foot.
"Hook me up, will you, kid? I can't fix the darned thing to save my life."
Clancy leaped to her feet and began fastening the opened dress of the woman. She worked silently, too overcome by embarrassment to speak. The blonde wriggled in her dress, making it fit more smoothly over her somewhat prominent hips. She faced Clancy.
"My name's Fay Marston. What's yours?"
"Cl—Florine Ladue," replied Clancy.
"Y-e-s, it is," grinned the other. "But it don't matter a darn, kid. It's what others call you, not what you call yourself. On the stage?"
"I expect to enter the movies," said Clancy.
"'Enter' them, eh? Wish I could crawl in! I'm too blamed big, they all tell me. Still, I should worry, while Mr. Ziegfeld runs the 'Follies.'"
"Are you in the 'Follies'?" asked Clancy. This was life!