Al was beating Minnie down by this rattle of talk, of which she understood little. She tried to silence him with a pressure of her trembling hand on his arm, but to no avail. "They come from every part of the world, he says, old folks and kids, bums, broken-down actors, and restless, married people all crazy to get into this game because they think they're going to dig a fortune out of it with no investment and very little effort."
"Oh, Al, for heaven's sake, shut up, or I'll have to go back. I can't stand it any longer. Let's go in there and get it over with."
Sam Binns had two offices; a large waiting room and his own private office where the aspirants were interviewed.
The waiting room was already filled with men and women of all ages and types, and pathetic, dowdy, overdressed children. Minnie and Al wandered around until they found a bench in one corner of the room, self-conscious because their entrance had attracted a little attention. But as soon as they were seated the others sank back and a deadly silence once more hung over the room. There they sat, their tense, eager eyes fastened upon the door leading into Binns' private office. The silence was broken only when the office boy opened the door and snapped: "Next!" Then they all bent automatically forward, their faces transfigured by mechanical smiles.
One by one they left the room, their ghastly, nervous smiles deepening as they reached the doorway of Binns' private office. No one ever returned through the waiting room, for the inner office contained two other doors. On one was the sign: "Stage and Dressing Rooms"; and on the other: "Exit."
The atmosphere depressed Minnie; the people's faces seemed so gray and colorless. In the overhead gas light they looked to her like sick people waiting at the Free Clinic for treatment.
