I'll be ready for the Wednesday
discussion."
She sounded very final and busy. The crumpled letter lay on
her desk. She smoothed it out, and the crumple transferred
itself to her forehead. Fenger stood a moment, looking down
at her. Then he turned, abruptly and left the office.
Fanny did not look up.
That was Friday. On Saturday her vacation took a personally
conducted turn. She had planned to get away at noon, as
most office heads did on Saturday, during the warm weather.
When her 'phone rang at eleven she answered it mechanically
as does one whose telephone calls mean a row with a tardy
manufacturer, an argument with a merchandise man, or a
catalogue query from the printer's.
The name that came to her over the telephone conveyed
nothing to her.
"Who?" Again the name. "Heyl?" She repeated the name
uncertainly. "I'm afraid I--O, of course! Clarence Heyl.
Howdy-do."
"I want to see you," said the voice, promptly.
There rose up in Fanny's mind a cruelly clear picture of the
little, sallow, sniveling school boy of her girlhood.
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