Merton Gill stared moodily at the half-empty wine glass, then exhaled smoke as he glanced up at his companion in profound ennui.

If it was The Blight of Broadway probably they would want him to look bored.
"You two stay where you are," said the assistant, and passed on.
"Good work," said the girl.

"I knew you was a type the minute I made you." Red-coated musicians entered an orchestra loft far down the set.

The voice of Henshaw came through a megaphone: "Everybody that's near the floor fox-trot." In a moment the space was thronged with dancers.
Another voice called "Kick it!" and a glare of light came on.
"You an' me both!" said the Spanish girl, rising.
Merton Gill remained seated.

"Can't," he said.