“You mean he’s permitted to mangle the lines? Who produced that show?”
Stella said: “Tony Vaux.” She stood up. “Coming in?”
Joe hesitated. “I’m not in the cast now. Wylie may not want—”
“Don’t be foolish,” the actress said and took his arm.
Walking into Studio B was like coming home after a long absence. Bert Farr, reading the radio department of the Journal, tossed the paper away. “We are now cursed,” he said gloomily, “with a genius in the cast.” He might be out of the show, Joe thought, but these people were his friends.
Beside him Stella said in sharp undertone, “I thought so.”
Amby Carver and the tall, pale youth Joe had seen talking to Archie Munn outside the FKIP building were in the studio.
“Vic around yet?” Amby asked briskly.
“No.” Bert Farr was short.
Little Amby Carver had steered a client into a sponsored show; little Amby was beginning to count himself a somebody in show business. The rebuff left him unruffled. He saw Joe and instantly the cane waggled with pointed carelessness.