"
"Dead?"
"Yes. She died a year ago. If the one who has taken her
place were to pass you on the street today, and see you
beset by forty thieves, she'd not even stop. Not she.
She'd say, `Let him fight it out alone. It's none of your
business. You've got your own fights to handle.'"
"Why--Fanny. You don't mean that, do you? What could have
made her like that?"
"She just discovered that fighting for others didn't pay.
She just happened to know some one else who had done that
all her life and--it killed her."
"Her mother?"
"Yes."
A little silence. "Fanny, let's play outdoors tomorrow,
will you? All day."
Involuntarily Fanny glanced around the room. Papers,
catalogues, files, desk, chair, typewriter. "I'm afraid
I've forgotten how."
"I'll teach you. You look as if you could stand a little of
it."
"I must be a pretty sight. You're the second man to tell me
that in two days."
Heyl leaned forward a little. "That so? Who's the other
one?"
"Fenger, the General Manager."
"Oh! Paternal old chap, I suppose.
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