"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."
"Just now. Took a chance on finding you here."
"Another five minutes and you wouldn't have."
"So these are the new diggings?"