Fanny felt her little blaze of anger flicker and die.
“That's the girl,” said Heyl, and patted her hand. “You'll like me—presently. After you've forgotten about that sniveling kid you hated.” He stepped back a pace and threw back his coat senatorially. “How do I look?” he demanded.
“Look?” repeated Fanny, feebly.
“I've been hours preparing for this. Years! And now something tells me—This tie, for instance.”
Fanny bit her lip in a vain effort to retain her solemnity. Then she gave it up and giggled, frankly. “Well, since you ask me, that tie!——”
“What's the matter with it?”
Fanny giggled again. “It's red, that's what.”
“Well, what of it! Red's all right. I've always considered red one of our leading colors.”
“But you can't wear it.”
“Can't! Why can't I?”