But Fanny had vanished. "I'm a tired business woman," she
called, above the splashing that followed, "and I won't
converse until I'm fed."

"But how about Horn & Udell?" demanded Ella, her mouth
against the crack.

"Practically mine," boasted Fanny.

"You mean--landed!"

"Well, hooked, at any rate, and putting up a very poor
struggle."

"Why, you clever little divil, you! You'll be making me
look like a stock girl next."

Fanny did not telephone Heyl until the day she left New
York. She had told herself she would not telephone him at
all. He had sent her his New York address and telephone
number months before, after that Sunday at the dunes. Ella
Monahan had finished her work and had gone back to Chicago
four days before Fanny was ready to leave. In those four
days Fanny had scoured the city from the Palisades to Pell
street. I don't know how she found her way about. It was a
sort of instinct with her. She seemed to scent the
picturesque. She never for a moment neglected her work.
But she had found it was often impossible to see these New
York business men until ten--sometimes eleven--o'clock. She