“The garage,” she announced. “It will also be Jeffrey’s writing-room within the month. Meanwhile dinner is at seven. Meanwhile to that I will mix a cocktail.”
The two men ascended to the second floor—that is, they ascended half-way, for at the first landing Jeffrey dropped his guest’s suitcase and in a cross between a query and a cry exclaimed:
“For God’s sake, Harry, how do you like her?”
“We will go up-stairs,” answered his guest, “and we will shut the door.”
Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose.
“They’re beautiful, dear,” said the husband, intensely.
“Exquisite,” murmured Harry.
Roxanne beamed.
“Taste one. I couldn’t bear to touch them before you’d seen them all and I can’t bear to take them back until I find what they taste like.”
“Like manna, darling.”