"I do hope I'll see you again, sometime," she said.
Fancy laughed. "I do, too. You're the only one who's ever really appreciated me. You make me almost wish I was a lady." By her tone, there was some old wound that bled.
"You're that, and better, I'm sure," Clytie answered softly; "you're yourself!"
She turned to leave. Granthope, who had watched the two women, amused, opened the door for her, received her long, steady glance, her quiet, low "Good morning," and bowed her out.
As soon as she had fairly left, he turned quickly to Fancy. "Where's Philip?"
"In the back room, I suppose." Fancy looked surprised.
"Go and get him, please; tell him to find out where this girl lives, and all he can about her."
"Say, Frank—" Fancy began, rising.
"Hurry, please! I don't want him to miss her. She's a good thing!"
"She's too good, Frank, that's just it!"