His eyes were half-closed as he looked at the door and, although he hadn’t realized it, it seemed to him that he was dreaming; at least he saw a vision, and such a lovely one that he was afraid to think about it for fear it would go away. She stood in the doorway, this vision, a slim, blond girl with wind-swept hair and slim, straight legs. She wore a light, camel’s-hair coat, with the collar turned up, and under her arm was an over-sized patent-leather handbag. “Hello,” she said, her voice as bright and friendly as her face. “Is Mr. Casey in?” Wade jumped up, knocking over the chair, and was instantly awake. “Hello,” he stammered. “Gosh.” He gulped and fumbled for the chair, because such visions never came to the studio and the immediate shock was great. “I thought I was dreaming,” he said, and encouraged by her laugh, grinned back at her. “Come on in. He isn’t here now, but he might come by any time. Sit down here. Let me take your bag.” He pulled the chair from Casey’s desk and put her bag down.
