The Jap shook his head. “Nossa.”
Their talk at luncheon was all about Theodore and his future. Fenger said that what Theodore needed was a firm and guiding hand. “A sort of combination manager and slave-driver. An ambitious and intelligent wife would do it. That's what we all need. A woman to work for, and to make us work.”
Fanny smiled. “Mizzi will have to be woman enough, I'm afraid. Poor Ted.”
They rose. “Now for the talk,” said Fenger. But the telephone had sounded shrilly a moment before, and the omnipresent little Jap summoned Fenger. He was back in a minute, frowning. “It's Haynes. I'm sorry. I'm afraid it'll take a half hour of telephoning. Don't you want to take a cat-nap? Or a stroll down to the lake?”
“Don't bother about me. I'll probably take a run outdoors.”
“Be back in half an hour.”
But when she returned he was still at the telephone. She got a book and stretched luxuriously among the cushions of one of the great lounging chairs, and fell asleep. When she awoke Fenger was seated opposite her. He was not reading. He was not smoking. He evidently had been sitting there, looking at her.
“Oh, gracious! Mouth open?”
“No.”
Fanny fought down an impulse to look as cross as she felt. “What time? Why didn't you wake me?” The house was very quiet. She patted her hair deftly, straightened her collar. “Where's everybody? Isn't Mrs. Fenger down yet?”