"Why don't you bring 'em all down to my
place in the country? We're not there half the time. It's
too cool for my wife in September. Just the thing for the
child, and your brother could fiddle his head off."
The Fengers had a roomy, wide-verandaed house near
Lake Forest; one of the many places of its kind that dot the
section known as the north shore. Its lawn sloped gently
down to the water's edge. The house was gay with striped
awnings, and scarlet geraniums, and chintz-covered chairs.
The bright, sparkling, luxurious little place seemed to
satisfy a certain beauty-sense in Fenger, as did the
etchings on the walls in his office. Fanny had spent a
week-end there in July, with three or four other guests,
including Fascinating Facts. She had been charmed with it,
and had announced that her energies thereafter would be
directed solely toward the possession of just such a house
as this, with a lawn that was lipped by the lake, awnings
and geraniums to give it a French cafe air; books and
magazines enough to belie that.
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