all the way from Aloysius and the blithe traveling men of
whom she bought goods, to the salesmen and importers in the
Chicago wholesale houses. If they had attempted,
occasionally, to mingle the social and personal with the
commercial Fanny had not resented their attitude. She had
accepted their admiration and refused their invitations
with equal good nature, and thus retained their friendship.
It is not exaggeration to say that she looked upon Michael
Fenger much as she had upon these genial fellow-workers. A
woman as straightforward and direct as she has what is known
as a single-track mind in such matters. It is your soft and
silken mollusc type of woman whose mind pursues a slimy and
labyrinthine trail. But it is useless to say that she did
not feel something of the intense personal attraction of the
man. Often it used to puzzle and annoy her to find that as
they sat arguing in the brisk, everyday atmosphere of office
or merchandise room the air between them would suddenly
become electric, vibrant. They met each other's eyes with
effort. When their hands touched, accidentally, over papers
or samples they snatched them back. Fanny found herself
laughing uncertainly, at nothing, and was furious. When a
silence fell between them they would pounce upon it,
breathlessly, and smother it with talk.

Do not think that any furtive love-making went on,
sandwiched between shop talk. Their conversation might have
taken place between two men. Indeed, they often were
brutally frank to each other. Fanny had the vision, Fenger
the science to apply it. Sometimes her intuition leaped
ahead of his reasoning. Then he would say, "I'm not sold on