“There would.” Fenger glanced in toward his wife, and smiled, dryly. Fascinating Facts took his hand out of his pocket, regretfully.
“Wouldn't it sour a fellow on marriage! Wouldn't it! First those two in there, with their damned linen closets, and their rugs—I beg your pardon, Miss Brandeis! And now your missus objects to my pipe. You wouldn't treat me like that, would you, Miss Brandeis?”
There was about him something that appealed—something boyish and likeable.
“No, I wouldn't. I'd let you smoke a nargileh, if you wanted to, surrounded by rolls of blue prints.”
“I knew it. I'm going to drive you home for that.”
And he did, in his trim little roadster. It is a fairy road at night, that lake drive between the north and south sides. Even the Rush street bridge cannot quite spoil it. Fanny sat back luxuriously and let the soft splendor of the late August night enfold her. She was intelligently monosyllabic, while Fascinating Facts talked. At the door of her apartment house (she had left the Mendota weeks before) Fascinating Facts surprised her.
“I—I'd like to see you again, Miss Brandeis. If you'll let me.”
“I'm so busy,” faltered Fanny. Then it came to her that perhaps he did not know. “I'm with Haynes-Cooper, you know. Assistant buyer in the infants' wear department.”
“Yes, I know. I suppose a girl like you couldn't be interested in seeing a chap like me again, but I thought maybe——”
“But I would,” interrupted Fanny, impulsively. “Indeed I would.”