It seems to me-Hello, Elinor!” He left his chair in a hurry. “How about it?” The girl who had entered without announcement tossed him a nod and a word and came towards the bed with rapid steps. I say girl because, although according to the newspapers Elinor Vance already had under her belt a Smith diploma, a play written and nearly produced, and two years as script writer for the Madeline Fraser programme, she looked as if she had at least eight years to go to reach my deadline. As she crossed to us the thought struck me how few there are who still look attractive even when they're obviously way behind on sleep and played out to the point where they're about ready to drop.

“I’m sorry to be so late, Lina,” she said all in a breath, “but they kept me down there all day, at the District Attorney's office…I couldn't make them understand…they're terrible, those men are…” She stopped, and her body started to shake all over.

“Goddam it,” Bill Meadows said savagely. “I'll get you a drink.” “I'm already getting it, Bill,” Tully Strong called from a side of the room.

“Flop here on the bed,” Miss Fraser said, getting her feet out of the way.

“It's nearly five o'clock.” It was Miss Koppel's quiet, determined voice. “We're going to start to work right now or I'll phone and cancel tomorrow's broadcast.”

I stood up, facing Madeline Fraser, looking down at her. “What about it? Can this be settled tonight?” “I don't see how.” She was stroking Elinor Vance's shoulder. With a broadcast to get up, and people to consult…” “Then tomorrow morning?” Tully Strong, approaching with the drink for Elinor Vance, handed it to her and then spoke to me: “I'll phone you tomorrow, before noon if possible,” “Good for you,” I told him, and beat it.