Carleton took a quick step forward. Three long years, as far as seeing women of any attraction went, he had spent practically alone. Three long years, and in the girl before him what a change. Charming she had always been, yet now in looks, in dress, in bearing, in every way she had altered for the better a hundredfold. Almost with a gasp, the memories of old days came flooding over heart and mind and soul. His voice, when at last he spoke, sounded hoarse with stifled emotion; “Jeanne,” he cried, “you!”
As of old, the woman seemed to dominate the situation. She laughed the old friendly laugh as she stepped backward into the gloom. Her words were commonplace enough, but not the tone in which she uttered them. “I’m glad to see you back, Jack,” she said. “Won’t you come in?”
CHAPTER XI
THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING
“What mighty ills have not been done by woman!”
Otway.
It was nearly seven o’clock when Jack Carleton strolled into the carriage house, to find Satterlee, sleeves rolled up, his big rubber apron tied around his waist, busy washing the carriages. Leisurely Carleton took his seat upon an inverted bucket, and lit a cigarette. “So you use a horse now and then, too, do you, Tom?” he asked, “it isn’t all automobiles?”
Satterlee grinned a little ruefully. “To speak true, Mr. Jack,” he answered, “we gets a lot of trouble out of that there machine. The gentlemen walked the last quarter mile to-night, and she’s out there in the road yet. You see, we got a new universal joint—”