I said, “We have to conform with the regulations of the F.I.C.”
“What’s the F.I.C.?”
“Federal Importing Commission.”
“Oh. I don’t see why.”
I smiled and said, “My dear young woman, we’d be subject to a fine of ten thousand dollars and imprisonment for twelve months if we sold to other than private individuals. We aren’t allowed to sell to any dealers, or to any person who intends to resell our merchandise.”
“I see,” she said, somewhat mollified.
She was dark, although not so dark as Roberta Fenn. She was expensive. Her hair, her eyebrows, the curl of her long lashes, the enamel on her nails showed the sort of care which costs both time and money. Women lavish that type of care on themselves only when they are property which is well worth the investment. I looked her over carefully.
“Well?” she asked, smiling tolerantly as she noticed the excursions made by my eyes.
I said, “You still haven’t convinced me.”
“ I haven’t convinced you?”