“But, Fanny——”
“That’s what I said—‘But, Cary——’ In fact, I never got further than that, though I tried it ten times over.”
“But did you—give him any encouragement?”
“Did I? Well, now, knowing me—as you think you do—what’s your idea of it?”
Nan studied her, without answering. Her gaze dropped from Fanny’s face to her black-clad shoulder, then suddenly she put her arm about that shoulder.
“I’m forgetting,” she said, gravely, “that you have lost a friend. I’m sorry. Somehow I didn’t expect to see you in black, and can’t yet realize that it means bereavement.”
“What a subtle way of telling me that my particular kind of black doesn’t wholly suggest bereavement! Well, my dear—it seemed to me only decent to show some respect to an old man who has been very decent to me, and left me enough to buy silk stockings and pumps in which to mourn him, to say nothing of other accessories. I don’t think he would have approved of henrietta cloth and crêpe—and besides—what I’m wearing suits me better, don’t you think? How do you imagine it will impress the Reverend Robert? I’ve already noted its effect on one young man. Can I hope to make another lose his head within the hour?”
Fanny walked over to the mirror and gave a touch or two to her hair beneath the black hat-brim. Nan’s eyes still followed her.
“I ought to be used to your breath-taking statements,” Nan observed, uneasily, “but I probably never shall be any more than I can become used to the covering up of what I know is your real self with all this pretense of lightness. You are sorry you have lost your uncle, but one would never guess it. And you care—or don’t care—for Cary Ray, and I haven’t an idea which. As for—the crazy things you’ve said all along about——”
“Don’t hesitate to mention his name—I adore hearing it. And I’m going to pronounce it myself to its owner this very hour—if he’s at home. That’s why I’m keeping on my hat. And why—” Fanny dived into a small and chastely elegant black leather travelling bag, and after a moment’s searching brought forth two filmily fine handkerchiefs which she tucked away in her dress—“why I am providing myself with the wherewithal to weep upon. I have no doubt that what the Reverend Robert says to me will bring forth tears, and I want to be prepared. But whether tears of joy or sorrow——”