But he was stubborn.
"I've got to have her," he said.
Michael Fenger's voice over the telephone had been as
vibrant with suppressed excitement as Michael Fenger's dry,
hard tones could be.
"Fanny, it's done--finished," he said. "We had a meeting
to-day. This is my last month with Haynes-Cooper."
"But you can't mean it. Why, you ARE Haynes-Cooper. How
can they let you go?"
"I can't tell you now. We'll go over it all to-morrow.
I've new plans. They've bought me out. D'you see? At
a price that--well, I thought I'd got used to juggling
millions at Haynes-Cooper. But this surprised even me.
Will you come? Early? Take the eight-ten."
"That's too early. I'll get the ten."
The mid-October country was a lovely thing. Fanny, with the
strain of Theodore's debut and leave-taking behind her, and
the prospect of a high-tension business talk with Fenger
ahead, drank in the beauty of the wayside woods gratefully.
Fenger met her at the station. She had never seen him so
boyish, so exuberant. He almost pranced.
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