But not for long. To the accompaniment of soft music, breakfast was served in the great dining room below.
One more taxi and they were at the radio building. A moment later and they looked into Tim O’Hara’s beaming eyes.
“I am glad you could come!” he exclaimed. “I am sure you have a grand story.
“And this is Jeanne.” He gripped the little French girl’s hand. “Any new dances?”
“Just one.” Jeanne smiled.
“Dance of the Flame,” Florence explained.
“Sounds great! But then,” Tim added, “you can’t dance on the radio.”
“More’s the pity,” said Florence. “It is a glorious dance. Truly fantastic and—and—”
“Yes, I see,” said Tim O’Hara. “You really can’t describe it. We shall have it somehow, somewhere.
“But now,” he was all business, “the other members of the cast are here. Step into my office.”