"Do?" Fancy repeated, shrugging her shoulders. "Why, the telephone wires are still working, aren't they?" She spoke a bit dryly. She had done her work, now, and relapsed into a sort of apathy.
"And I prided myself on my intuition, and on my fairness!" Clytie went on, unheeding her. "I knew that I saw in him what no one else saw—not even you, who knew him so well, and who wouldn't suspect him of anything so base as that! To think of my being the victim of such a claptrap trick!"
Fancy raised her eyebrows and watched her quietly. "What I can't understand now, is why you're wasting your time talking about it."
Clytie stared at her, her face still shadowed by her emotion. Then her smile came rapturously. She turned and ran down-stairs to the telephone.
Fancy walked to the window forlornly. There she leaned her head on her arm against the pane and shut her eyes, as if she were fatigued. It was black in the west, and the Marin shore was shrouded in the murk. The harbor was covered with dancing whitecaps. The storm was imminent. She stayed there, motionless, until Clytie's step was heard coming up, then started into life again and gave herself a shake.
"He's coming right up!" Clytie announced.
Fancy immediately looked at the blue enameled dial of her little silver watch. "Well, I must be going."
"Oh, please stay!" Clytie exclaimed, holding her tightly. "I really want you to, so! It's you who have done it all."
Fancy smiled at last, and released herself. "Yes, I've spent my life in straightening out other people's snarls," she said. "Sometime I hope some one will be able to straighten mine. But I've got a date, really."
"Oh, do tell me that you're as happy as I am," Clytie exclaimed. "I've been so selfish, I'm afraid! I don't know who he is, but I'm sure he must be fine, if you care for him. How I wish I could help you, dear!"