"My tzuris if you get a divorce or not!" she said as she heard the elevator door close behind Mrs. Fieldstone.
"I hope she does!" Ralph said fervently. "He's nothing but a dawg—that fellow Fieldstone ain't!"
"Most of 'em are dawgs—those big managers," Miss Schwartz said; "and, what with their wives and their actors, they lead a dawg's life, too."
Further discussion was prevented by the appearance of Miss Haig and Mr. Bienenflug from Room 6020.
"I can throw the bluff all right," Mr. Bienenflug was saying; "though I tell you right now, Miss Haig, you haven't any cause of action; and if you did have one there wouldn't be much use in suing on it."
He shook his head sorrowfully.
"A producing manager has to get a couple of judgments entered against him every week, otherwise every one'd think he was an easy mark," he commented; "and that's why I say there ain't any money in the show business for the plaintiff's attorney—unless it's an action for divorce." Here he snapped his fingers as he realized that he had completely forgotten Mrs. Fieldstone during his twenty-minute consultation with Miss Haig. "Well, good-bye, Miss Haig," he said, pressing her hand warmly. "I've got some one in there waiting to see me."
"No, you ain't," Ralph blurted out. "Mrs. Fieldstone went away a few minutes ago; and she said——"
"Went away!" Mr. Bienenflug exclaimed. "Went away! And you let her?"
"He ain't no cop, Mr. Bienenflug," Miss Schwartz said, coming to Ralph's defence. "What did you want him to do—put handcuffs on her?"