Fenner shook his head. “Not if I can help it,” he said. “We’re in the dough, ain’t we? Let’s take it easy.”
“You’re passing up something pretty good. Still, if that’s the way you feel . . .” Paula slid off the desk.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Fenner sat up and pushed his hat off his eyes. “Is she really a passion flower?”
Paula nodded. “I guess she’s in trouble, Dave.”
“Okay, okay, send her in, send her in.”
Paula opened the door. She said, “Will you come in?”
A voice said, “Thank you,” and a young woman came in. She walked slowly past Paula, looking at Fenner with large, smoky-blue eyes.
She was a shade taller than average, and pliantly slender. Her legs were long, her hands and feet narrow, and her body was very erect. Her hair, curling under her prim little hat, was raven black. She wore a severe two-piece costume, and she looked very young and very scared.
Paula gave her an encouraging smile and went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Fenner took his feet off the desk and stood up. “Sit down ” he said, “and tell me what I can do for you.” He indicated the arm-chair by his desk.