Fanny seized him by the lapel of his coat and kissed him twice. “All right. Get your beauty sleep,” she said, protectingly. “Good-night. And be sure to put on your scarf and turn up the collar of your coat. I’ll go down to the hotel and take breakfast with you to-morrow if I wake up in time.”
“Better be sensible and stay in bed,” Wallace grumbled.
“Good-night,” Fanny repeated.
Wallace bowed to Guy. “Good-night, sir,” he said, as he turned to go out.
“Isn’t he a lovely father?” said Fanny. “Oh, you needn’t be afraid of him. I just do this to him,” she exclaimed, twirling her little finger—“except—oh, I know when to let him alone. Sometimes he’s dangerous. Oh, here comes Aunt Helen and that horrid Mr. West. What do you suppose would happen if Mr. West took his smile off? D’you suppose there’d be anything left?”
Helen Briggs looked surprised at seeing the girl. “Your uncle told me you had gone away with Mrs. McShane, Fanny,” she said.
“Oh, she found Madame Alphonsine, the dressmaker,” Fanny replied. “So I wasn’t any use.”
West glanced significantly at the young people. “I hope we aren’t interrupting a tête-à-tête,” he said, with exaggerated politeness.
Guy tried to assume a careless air. “Oh, not at all, not at all,” he said, grandly. He objected to West’s amiable air of patronage.
“Let’s go into the ballroom, Guy,” Fanny whispered.