“I know I would,” Bill said slowly. “I love the theater, Miss Lane—”
“Peggy, please!” she twinkled.
“Peggy!” he agreed. “All right. But we might as well not beat about the bush. You know how my brother feels about the theater! I’ve talked to him, Peggy, believe it or not.” He looked at her pleadingly, and she wondered how an attractive, intelligent young man like this could bear to remain so entirely under his brother’s influence. Bill Slade looked as though he should have a more independent role.
“But what does your brother have to do with it?” Peggy asked, hoping to jolt him a little. “Surely, if you would like to be on our side—and I gathered from the way you spoke that day that you would—?”
Bill answered her implied question with an emphatic nod.
“Well, then,” Peggy urged, “why not take a stand? Come up to the theater and let your brother know exactly how you feel.”
“He does know,” Bill said softly.
“I don’t see why we have to be in competition,” Peggy went on earnestly. “Don’t you think the two forms of entertainment could complement each other? For instance, we’re doing a melodrama this week, and if instead of choosing the same story, you had run a comedy film, both our businesses would have benefited. Or don’t you agree?”
She looked at him anxiously over her glass of lemonade, her large eyes serious and her pretty dress making a splash of color against the dull gray of the seat. Bill Slade smiled, saying, “You make an incongruous picture, Peggy! You’re much too young and pretty to be carrying the weight of rival businesses on your shoulders. Tell me—” he leaned forward intently—“did anyone ask you to come and see me about this? I can’t quite believe your story about the movie!”
Peggy decided to be completely honest with him. “No, no one asked me to come—but I did hope to see you. I came with that intention. I thought perhaps if we talked together, you might see our point of view and persuade your brother to put an end to this silly feud!”