I'm ready."
"You are not. Your hair's a sight; and those eyes!"
Fenger put a hand on her arm. "Go on up and powder your
nose, Miss Brandeis. And don't hurry. I want you to enjoy
this drive."
On her way up in the elevator Fanny thought, "He has lost
his waistline. Now, that couldn't have happened in a month.
Queer I didn't notice it before. And he looks soft. Not
enough exercise."
When she rejoined them she was freshly bloused and gloved
and all traces of the tell-tale red had vanished from her
eyelids. Fifth avenue was impossible. Their car sped up
Madison avenue, and made for the Park. The Plaza was a jam
of tired marchers. They dispersed from there, but there
seemed no end to the line that still flowed up Fifth avenue.
Fenger seemed scarcely to see it. He had plunged at once
into talk of the European trip. Fanny gave him every
detail, omitting nothing. She repeated all that her
letters and cables had told. Fenger was more excited than
she had ever seen him. He questioned, cross-questioned,
criticized, probed, exacted an account of every
conversation.
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