then began one of those beautiful and foolish conversations which
all lovers have whose love has been a sure and steady growth. Thus:
"When did you first begin to care," etc. And, "That day we spent at the
dunes, and you said so and so, did you mean this and that?"

Albert Edward Cobbins announced his approach by terrific stampings and
scufflings, ostensibly for the purpose of ridding his boots of snow. He
entered looking casual, and very nipped.

"You're here for the night," he said. "A regular blizzard. The greatest
piece of luck I've had in a month." He busied himself with the ham and
eggs and the teapot. "Hungry?"

"Not a bit," said Fanny and Heyl, together.

"H'm," said Albert Edward, and broke six eggs into the frying pan just
the same.

After supper they aided Albert Edward in the process of washing up. When
everything was tidy he lighted his most malignant pipe and told them
seafaring yarns not necessarily true. Then he knocked the ashes out
of his pipe and fell asleep there by the fire, effacing himself as
effectually as one of three people can in a single room. They talked;
low-toned murmurings that they seemed to find exquisitely meaningful
or witty, by turn. Fanny, rubbing a forefinger (his) along her
weather-roughened nose, would say, "At least you've seen me at my
worst."

Or he, mock serious: "I think I ought to tell you that I'm the kind of
man who throws wet towels into the laundry hamper."

But there was no mirth in Fanny's voice when she said, "Dear, do you
think Lasker will give me that job? You know he said, `When you want a
job, come back.' Do you think he meant it?"

"Lasker always means it."

"But," fearfully, and shyly, too, "you don't think I may have lost my
drawing hand and my seeing eye, do you? As punishment?"

"I do not. I think you've just found them, for keeps. There wasn't a
woman cartoonist in the country--or man, either, for that matter--could
touch you two years ago. In two more I'll be just Fanny Brandeis'
husband, that's all."

They laughed together at that, so that Albert Edward Cobbins awoke with
a start and tried to look as if he had not been asleep, and failing,
smiled benignly and drowsily upon them.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny Herself, by Edna Ferber

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