Peggy heard the door bang open, and turning, saw before her one of the great figures of the American stage. Katherine Nelson, a portrait of elegance, stood framed in the doorway.
Katherine Nelson had been world famous for many years.
Katherine Nelson. Everyone knew of Katherine Nelson. She had been world-famous for many years, at the very top of her profession. But suddenly, about five years ago—nobody knew why—she had begun to slip. For some reason, she chose her plays badly, and where once she had known nothing but success, she had had to face the humiliation of failure. It had been a long time since she had been on a stage in New York, or anywhere else for that matter. She still had her great name, of course. Katherine Nelson would always be a magnet, but there was no denying that as a star she was fading. Other, younger actresses were moving up to take the roles that would automatically have been hers a few years ago.
It was well known that Katherine Nelson did not wear her years gracefully. References to age sent her into towering rages that were the delight of all gossip columnists, and the despair of those who had to work with her. She stood now, not ten feet from Peggy, her magnificent eyes flashing daggers. At first, Peggy felt a thrill at being so near a famous person, but surprisingly that passed almost at once. Instead of staring at her face, Peggy caught herself looking at Katherine Nelson’s hands as they gripped the door.
They were like claws, Peggy thought. They were the hands of an old woman. With a start, Peggy realized that despite her youthful figure and carefully made-up face, Katherine Nelson could no longer play romantic parts.
All this passed through Peggy’s mind in a flash, before her train of thought was evaporated by a throaty voice that rolled out in accents of anger.
“You’ll remember whom you’re talking to, Oscar Stalkey! There’s only one Katherine Nelson in the theater, and if you’re not aware of it, there are hundreds and thousands of people who are. People who are prepared to stand in line all night, if necessary, to get tickets to my plays. When you’ve thought that over and are willing to discuss matters more intelligently, you may call me!”
Shrugging into a magnificent silk-and-fur coat, Katherine Nelson swept down between the two lines of awed young girls, exactly as if she were making a grand exit from a stage. As a matter of fact, this was just what she was doing. It would have been effective, too, except for one thing. Katherine Nelson had a toy poodle on a leash, and the little dog took a sudden playful liking to Peggy.
As his mistress passed Peggy, the tiny poodle wagged his tail and trotted over. The unexpected shift in course forced Katherine Nelson to stop. Frowning with annoyance, she yanked at the dog’s leash. But instead of following obediently, the poodle gave a couple of shrill yips and scrambled up on Peggy’s lap.