"Keep our two exhibits, Mr. Fane, until I tell you what to do with them." Then Rich went over and opened the door. "Come in, Mrs. Fane," he invited.
Four
Vicky hesitated in the doorway.
It was as though this were only some guessing-game in which she hesitated about what question to ask first. Her manner indicated this. Yet her tanned, clean-skinned face, the blue eyes more vivid against it, was softened by another underlying emotion. It was fear, and Sharpless knew it.
"Yes?" she said doubtfully.
Rich took her hand. "Come over here, Mrs. Fane, and sit down on the sofa. Make yourself comfortable."
Vicky stopped short.
"I'd rather not sit on the sofa," she said.
Again a brief, vague touch of uneasiness brushed the room.
"Very well, then," agreed Rich, after a slight pause. "We'll try to make you comfortable somewhere else."