"I should be afraid to trust these ladies' maids; they might give you away any time, and then where'd you be? That would be a pretty good scandal, itself." Fancy shook her head.
"Aren't they all in love with me?" he said, smiling grimly.
Fancy looked dubious. "That's just the trouble. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"
Granthope now laughed outright. "Fancy, when you get literary you're too funny for words."
She bridled, stuck out her little pointed tongue at him, and walked into the front office, where she sat down to attend to some details of her own work. At last she finished her writing and went to the closet to put on her hat and jacket.
"Oh, Frank!" she called out.
"Yes, Fancy!"
"You don't think I'm jealous, do you?"
"Yes!" he laughed.
She appeared at the doorway and called again: