Right now he had a sewing needle in his hand, a torn canvas slung over his knees, and an angry ghost zooming back and forth around his head.
"Hardly [Barely] sixty people in the crowd [, Nick,] --hardly fifty!--and I'd bet my grave that only half of them paid. You promised me fame, Nick! An afterlife of theatrics!" The ghost paused to toot her nose indignantly into an ephemeral handkerchief. "An eternity of treading the boards!"
"You are treading the boards, my dear," said Nick Leeds, teeth firmly clenched. He drew his stitching tight. "The size of our audience hardly affects that."
"Nick, I want to see the world! When I was a child in Boston--"
"Yes, yes, Gladys, you thought that nothing existed beyond the walls of your little town." It was a line from her monologue.
She tossed her head. "Borders. Nothing existed beyond the borders of my little town." [Boston was her "little town"?]
"Well, here we are in the wilds of western Pennsylvania. I suppose that proves you wrong." He looped off his stitching and snipped the thread with his teeth.
"Pennsylvania," said Gladys, lately dead, "is not the world."
"lately dead" is cool; it would be even cooler if we didn't already know she was a ghost, but that can be arranged only if this is her first scene. Nicely done.