"Don't laugh at me, Fanny."
She stood up, still smiling. It was rather a brilliant
piece of work. Fenger, taken out of himself though he was,
still was artist enough to appreciate it.
"Why not laugh," she said, "if I'm amused? And I am. Come
now, Mr. Fenger. Be serious. And let's get back to the
billions. I want to catch the five-fifteen."
"I AM serious."
"Well, if you expect me to play the hunted heroine, I'm
sorry." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "I know
now. You're quitting Haynes-Cooper for the movies. And
this is a rehearsal for a vampire film."
"You nervy little devil, you!" He reached out with one
great, irresistible hand and gripped her shoulder. "You
wonderful, glorious girl!" The hand that gripped her
shoulder swung her to him. She saw his face with veins she
had never noticed before standing out, in knots, on his
temples, and his eyes were fixed and queer. And he was
talking, rather incoherently, and rapidly. He was saying
the same thing over and over again: "I'm crazy about you.
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