They read again:
Sue: Mr. Tice left it—
Dick: Tice? What’s that other paper? A check? A check from Tice? You didn’t—
Sound—Door closes
Dick: Oh!
“That does it,” Vic Wylie said at last. “The real McCoy. It stands.” He picked up his brief-case and left them.
Sonny draped a top-coat across his arm. “First an actor and now a producer. You should try script-writing, Carlin.” He sauntered toward the door.
“He makes me furious,” Stella snapped. Joe had never before seen her ruffled.
“In the movies,” Bert Farr said, “they tried to hog the camera. On the stage they have a trick of spoiling another actor’s big scenes by moving about and distracting the audience. How long will Vic put up with him?”
Stella looked at Joe. “I want to be around the day Vic lets down his hair.”