"Indeed, I'm sure she would actually have enjoyed it, sir."
"Well, then, she ought not," shouted Reed sternly.
Jane-Ellen shook her head sadly.
"Ah, sir," she said, "young ladies like Miss Revelly don't always do what they ought to, if report speaks true."
"May I ask, without impertinence, Burton," said Tucker, at this point, "whether it is your intention to give us nothing whatsoever to drink with our dinner?"
"No, certainly not," cried Crane. "Jane-Ellen, why haven't you served the champagne?"
The reason for this omission was presently only too clear. Jane-Ellen had not the faintest idea of how to open the bottle. Crane, listening with one ear to his guests, watched her wrestling with it in a corner, holding it as if it were a venomous reptile.
"For my part," Tucker was saying, "I have a great deal of sympathy with the stand Mr. Reed has taken. Any discussion of a woman behind her back runs at least the risk—"
Suddenly Crane shouted:
"Look out! Don't do that!" He was speaking not to Tucker, but to the cook. His warning, however, came too late. There was the sound of breaking glass and a deep cherry-colored stain dyed the napkin in Jane-Ellen's hand.