"It isn't the sound of my engine, either," he answered.
Headlights came sweeping up the drive, and a few minutes later, Lefferts, in full evening dress, entered the house.
"I'm afraid I'm a little bit late," he said, "but I missed a turn."
For an instant Crane regarded him blankly. Then he remembered that once, ages before, or perhaps no earlier than that very afternoon, he had invited Lefferts to dinner. And at the same time he realized what had not heretofore occurred to him, that there was no one in the house to serve dinner, except Jane-Ellen, who had, in all probability, cooked dinner for only two. Reed might be there at any minute. It was really necessary, in so acute a domestic crisis, to put pride in his pocket and go downstairs and speak to his cook.
He put his hand on Lefferts' shoulder.
"Awfully sorry, my dear fellow," he said, "that things are not quite as anticipated. Tucker will tell you we have had rather a stormy afternoon. Give him a cigarette and a cocktail, Tuck, and I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared down the kitchen stairs.
With what different feelings, he said to himself, did he now descend those stairs; but, when he was actually in the kitchen, when Willoughby was once again bounding forward to greet him, and Jane-Ellen was allowing herself that slow curved smile of hers, he was surprised and disappointed to find that his feelings were, after all, much the same as before. Over his manner, however, he was still master, and that was cold and formal in the extreme.
"I wanted to speak to you, Jane-Ellen," he began, but she interrupted.
"This time," she said gaily, "I know what it is that you are going to scold about."
"I am not going to scold."