Al: Listen, Mister. I like you. I think you’re all right. But this neighborhood can’t make you out. It’s a friendly neighborhood; there’s a lot of music, and singing, and loud talking and visiting back and forth. You don’t talk much, Mister. You don’t make friends. The neighborhood’s beginning to whisper about you. They say you’re not their kind. They say you’re queer. Don’t you see? You got to snap out of it.... A clear, cool voice said: “Any idea when Amby’ll be back?” Joe spun around. The door was open, and a slim, dark-haired girl stood on threshold. He said: “Perhaps in the next five minutes; perhaps not for hours.” “An exact statement of an Amby schedule! I didn’t know he was spreading out with an office boy.” Joe said stiffly: “I happen to be an actor.” “Poisoned catfish! Another one?” The girl stepped inside the office. “Where do they all come from? What have you been on?” “Nothing yet.” “What have you done?” “High-school shows.” “And Carver picked you up? Next he’ll be lifting them out of the cradle. A nice boy, Amby, if you like them that way. Well, a part’s a part no matter where it comes from. Tell him to list me in his file. The name’s Lucille Borden.” Joe stared, stupefied. “Lucille Borden? You don’t mean the Lucille Borden of _Years of Danger_. You don’t sound—” “I’m fed up, done, finished.” The girl’s voice was hard and clipped, tough. She laughed. “Satisfied now? What’s your name—or are you old enough to have a name?” “Joe Carlin.” “You’re nice, youngster. An unspoiled kid. That’s a _City Boy_ script you’re reading. I was in that show. I was shot. I’m always getting shot, or stabbed, or smashed up by automobiles. I end up every show on a stretcher. Sometimes I think the script writers are trying to kill me off. You were trying to read the part the way Sonny Baker read it.” Joe was flattered. “Was I that good?” “You were laying an egg. A pretty bad egg. Never imitate anybody. Be yourself. Give the part Joe Carlin. Well, don’t forget to tell Carver. The tramp may find me a part.” She was gone, and Joe continued to stare at the door through which she had passed. A real actress, the first one he’d met face to face. Lucille Borden. Why, she wasn’t tough and hard at all. Were all actors and actresses so quick and generous with help and advice? A glow, a pride that he was an actor, too, ran through him. He turned to the mike and read again. He tried to give the part Joe Carlin, but all the days he had listened to Sonny Baker got in the way. “Lucille Borden was here,” he told Amby when the agent finally returned. Amby tried to hide his surprise. “Lucille? See how they’re starting to run to me, Joe? What did she want?” “A part if one turns up.” Ambrose Carver rubbed his hands briskly. “A great girl, Lucille. One of my best friends. She thinks I’m aces.”