“Now, look here, Mr. Fenger,” Fanny interrupted, quietly. “Let's be square with each other, even if we're not being square with ourselves. You're the real power in this plant, because you've the brains. You can make any person in this organization, or break them. That sounds melodramatic, but it's true. I've got a definite life plan, and it's as complete and detailed as an engineering blue print. I don't intend to let you spoil it. I've made a real start here. If you want to, I've no doubt you can end it. But before you do, I want to warn you that I'll make a pretty stiff fight for it. I'm no silent sufferer. I'll say things. And people usually believe me when I talk.”
Still the silent, concentrated gaze. With a little impatient exclamation Fanny walked toward the door. Fenger, startlingly light and agile for his great height, followed.
“I'm sorry, Miss Brandeis, terribly sorry. You see, you interest me very much. Very much.”
“Thanks,” dryly.
“Don't go just yet. Please. I'm not a villain. Really. That is, not a deliberate villain. But when I find something very fine, very intricate, very fascinating and complex—like those etchings, for example—I am intrigued. I want it near me. I want to study it.”
Fanny said nothing. But she thought, “This is a dangerously clever man. Too clever for you. You know so little about them.” Fenger waited. Most women would have found refuge in words. The wrong words. It is only the strong who can be silent when in doubt.
“Perhaps you will dine with Mrs. Fenger and me at our home some evening? Mrs. Fenger will speak to you about it.”
“I'm afraid I'm usually too tired for further effort at the end of the day. I'm sorry——”
“Some Sunday night perhaps, then. Tea.”
“Thank you.” And so out, past the spare secretary, the anxious-browed stenographer, the academic office boy, to the hallway, the elevator, and finally the refuge of her own orderly desk. Slosson was at lunch in one of the huge restaurants provided for employees in the building across the street. She sat there, very still, for some minutes; for more minutes than she knew. Her hands were clasped tightly on the desk, and her eyes stared ahead in a puzzled, resentful, bewildered way. Something inside her was saying over and over again: