“So you are really Fyfe Falcon and I must have heard about you if you own the Falcon motor car.”
Fyfe put back his head and laughed.
“Such is fame! I always believed myself to be an international figure.”
“Well, at least you can have the pleasure of telling me how important you are.”
She gave a little cry.
“But of course! You must have raced your own cars. Or were you one of those who recorded such amazing speeds on Daytona Beach?”
“Got it in one!” Fyfe exclaimed. “I always thought you were intelligent, even when it came to motor cars!”
“I admit I know nothing about them,” Susanna replied. “Papa has always talked about buying one, but really I preferred his horses. Mama uses an electric brougham sometimes, but I think she feels more elegant when she is driving behind a very smart pa
