“That’s like you, Fanny.”
“She’s very interesting; she has a lot of talent.”
“If you need help in advancing her cause you may call on me,” he said lightly, but she knew him so well that she fathomed his serious wish to know about her protégée. He had taken up his hat, but lingered expectantly. “I saw her in the art gallery to-day, and she’s certainly unusual. I wish you would introduce me to her!”
Mrs. Blair had not been prepared for the directness of his request. Her figure stiffened; she must be on guard against the joy in him that had filled her heart.
“I know the way round at the Institute and I might be of service to her,” he said carelessly, but she knew that he was deeply interested—women always interested him—and she saw no way at the moment of putting him off.
“I can’t, Wayne.”
“I should like to know why not?” and he laughed as he balanced his hat by its brim in his hands. She usually yielded readily to any of his requests and he was surprised that she parleyed now.
“I can’t; I mustn’t; and please, Wayne, don’t make any effort to find out who she is. I beg you not to; I don’t want you to know her,” she ended, with pleading in her voice and eyes.
His face clouded and he turned to the door and opened it. Then he flung round upon her roughly:
“My God, Fanny; have I sunk as low as that!”