monster plant under his management was yielding the
greatest possible profit under the least possible outlay.

In Fanny Brandeis he had found a stimulating, energizing
fellow worker. That had been from the beginning. In the
first month or two of her work, when her keen brain was
darting here and there, into forgotten and neglected
corners, ferreting out dusty scraps of business waste and
holding them up to the light, disdainfully, Fenger had
watched her with a mingling of amusement and a sort of fond
pride, as one would a precocious child. As the months went
on the pride and amusement welded into something more than
admiration, such as one expert feels for a fellow-craftsman.
Long before the end of the first year he knew that here was
a woman such as he had dreamed of all his life and never
hoped to find. He often found himself sitting at his office
desk, or in his library at home, staring straight ahead for
a longer time than he dared admit, his papers or book
forgotten in his hand. His thoughts applied to her
adjectives which proved her a paradox: Generous,
sympathetic, warm-hearted, impulsive, imaginative; cold,
indomitable, brilliant, daring, intuitive. He would rouse
himself almost angrily and force himself to concentrate
again upon the page before him. I don't know how he thought
it all would end--he whose life-habit it was to follow out
every process to its ultimate step, whether mental or
mechanical. As for Fanny, there was nothing of the
intriguant about her. She was used to admiration. She was
accustomed to deference from men. Brandeis' Bazaar had
insured that. All her life men had taken orders from her,