“They seem to have put it over,” he said. “And yet, what's the idea? Oh, I'm for suffrage, of course. Naturally. And all those thousands of women, in white--still, a thing as huge as this parade has to be reduced to a common denominator, to be really successful. If somebody could take the whole thing, boil it down, and make the country see what this huge demonstration stands for.”
Fanny leaned forward suddenly. “Tell the man to stop. I want to get out.”
Fenger and Ella stared. “What for?” But Fenger obeyed.
“I want to get something at this stationer's shop.” She had jumped down almost before the motor had stopped at the curb.
“No. You can't. Wait here.” She disappeared within the shop. She was back in five minutes, a flat, loosely wrapped square under her arm. “Cardboard,” she explained briefly, in answer to their questions.
Fenger, about to leave them at their hotel, presented his plans for the evening. Fanny, looking up at him, her head full of other plans, thought he looked and sounded very much like Big Business. And, for the moment at least, Fanny Brandeis loathed Big Business, and all that it stood for.
“It's almost seven,” Fenger was saying. “We'll be rubes in New York, this evening. You girls will just have time to freshen up a bit--I suppose you want to--and then we'll have dinner, and go to the theater, and to supper afterward. What do you want to see?”
Ella looked at Fanny. And Fanny shook her head, “Thanks. You're awfully kind. But--no.”
“Perhaps because I'm tired. And there's something else I must do.”
Ella looked relieved. Fenger's eyes bored down upon Fanny, but she seemed not to feel them. She held out her hand.
“You're going back to-morrow?” Fenger asked. “I'm not leaving until Thursday.”
“To-morrow, with Ella. Good-by. It's been a glorious drive. I feel quite rested.”
The elevator door clanged, shutting out the sight of Fenger's resentful frown.
“He's as sensitive as a soubrette,” said Ella. “I'm glad you decided not to go out. I'm dead, myself. A kimono for the rest of the evening.”
Fanny seemed scarcely to hear her. With a nod she left Ella, and entered her own room. There she wasted no time. She threw her hat and coat on the bed. Her suitcase was on the baggage stand. She turned on all the lights, swung the closed suitcase up to the table, shoved the table against the wall, up-ended the suitcase so that its leather side presented a smooth surface, and propped a firm sheet of white cardboard against the impromptu rack. She brought her chair up close, fumbled in her bag for the pens she had just purchased. Her eyes were on the blank white surface of the paper. The table was the kind that has a sub-shelf. It prevented Fanny from crossing her legs under it, and that bothered her. While she fitted her pens, and blocked her paper, she kept on barking her shins in unconscious protest against the uncomfortable conditions under which she must work.