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Updated: June 24, 2025
It's just a perfectly good idea, founded on common sense and economy." "M-m-m, but that's all Columbus had in mind when he started out to find a short cut to India." Fanny laughed out at that. "Yes, but see where he landed!" But Fenger was serious. "We'll have to have a meeting on this. Are you prepared to go into detail on it, before Mr.
Ella Monahan said, "They'll make light of it all but Fenger. That's their way." Slosson drummed with his fingers all the time she was giving him the result of her work in terms of style, material, quantity, time, and price. When she had finished he said, "Well, all I can say is we seem to be going out of the mail order business and into the imported novelty line, de luxe.
She was working more or less directly with Fenger now, with an eye on every one of the departments that had to do with women's clothing, from shoes to hats. Not that she did any actual buying, or selling in these departments. She still confined her actual selecting of goods to the infants' wear section, but she occupied, unofficially, the position of assistant to the General Merchandise Manager.
Fenger was the kind of man to whom waiters always give a table overlooking anything that should be overlooked. After tea they drove out along the river and came back in the cool of the evening. Fanny was very quiet now. Fenger followed her mood. Ella sustained the conversation, somewhat doggedly. It was almost seven when they reached the plaza exit.
And don't call me girl." Fenger saw the letter crushed in her hand. "Brother?" She had told him about Theodore and he had been tremendously interested. "Yes." "Money again, I suppose?" "Yes, but " "You know your salary's going up, after Christmas." "Catalogue or no catalogue?" "Catalogue or no catalogue." "Why?" "Because you've earned it." Fanny faced him squarely.
They did things that way at Haynes-Cooper. No waste. No delay. That she had accomplished in two months that which ordinarily takes years was not surprising. They did things that way, too, at Haynes-Cooper. Take the case of Nathan Haynes himself. And Michael Fenger too who, not so many years before, had been a machine-boy in a Racine woolen mill.
Then, rather haltingly, she told him of Fenger, of his business genius, his magnetic qualities, of his career. She even sketched a deft word-picture of the limp and irritating Mrs. Fenger. "Is this Fenger in love with you?" asked Heyl, startlingly. Fanny recoiled at the idea with a primness that did credit to Winnebago. "Clancy! Please! He's married." "Now don't sneak, Fanny.
Still the silent, concentrated gaze. With a little impatient exclamation Fanny walked toward the door. Fenger, startlingly light and agile for his great height, followed. "I'm sorry, Miss Brandeis, terribly sorry. You see, you interest me very much. Very much." "Thanks," dryly. "Don't go just yet. Please. I'm not a villain. Really. That is, not a deliberate villain.
Pankhurst, and Lillian Russell may be a myth to them, but I'll swear that every one of them knows that Camille is a dressmaker who makes super-dresses. She is as much a household word among them as Roosevelt used to be to their men folks. At the very end, to her stenographer's mystification, she added this irrelevant line. "Seven dollars a week is not a living wage." The report went to Fenger.
Michael Fenger smiled for the first time. Fanny Brandeis would have given everything she had, everything she hoped to be, to be able to take back that monosyllable. She was gripped with horror at what she had done. She had spoken almost mechanically. And yet that monosyllable must have been the fruit of all these months of inward struggle and thought.
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