“A vaudeville song-and-dance man!” Katherine Nelson said and her voice was heavy with scorn. “A broken-down old has-been who probably can’t even remember his lines! This is what you want to put into one of my plays? Never!” She advanced toward Oscar Stalkey, her eyes flashing. “Either he goes or I go! I will not play in the same company with that man!”
Oscar Stalkey held his ground firmly, but Tom Agate cringed away. “Look, Oscar,” he said dully, “she’s probably right. Let’s just forget about the whole—”
“Be quiet, both of you!” the producer thundered. Peggy noticed that his face was as flushed as Katherine Nelson’s. “Now you listen to me, Katherine. I’m still the producer of Innocent Laughter and I make the decisions about who goes into the cast and who doesn’t. Tom Agate is perfect for the part of the grandfather. Furthermore, he’s got a name that still has drawing power. Maybe it’s not as big a name as yours, but it’ll do, and I’m willing to gamble on him. As for you, you’ve got a contract. Now, if you want to break it, I’ll give you permission to go right ahead. You can come up to the office right now and we can tear it up together. But if you do”—Oscar Stalkey lowered his voice in warning—“you’ll never be in another one of my shows. You know perfectly well what Innocent Laughter can do for you. You’ll have a success again—for the first time in quite a while. And believe me, Katherine, you need a success.”
For a long moment Katherine Nelson was speechless. Finally, in a voice that was noticeably shaking, she asked, “Is that your final word?”
“It is,” Stalkey replied firmly.
The actress swayed, caught herself, then turned to Tom Agate. “All right,” she said in a low voice, keeping her eyes on Tom. “I’ll agree to what you want. But only on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Katherine Nelson spoke slowly but with withering effect. “That I have nothing to do with Tom Agate—except during rehearsals and performance. That I won’t speak to him—look at him—or touch him. Is that understood?”
Oscar Stalkey frowned, started to say something, then changed his mind. “Suit yourself,” he said at last. “Of course, I don’t know how Tom feels—”
Tom, who had lowered his eyes under Katherine Nelson’s scathing attack, straightened visibly. His face was grave and serious, but he was no longer cowering. He seemed to have come to some sort of inner decision. He returned Katherine Nelson’s contemptuous stare squarely.