It was not Milt's placid and slightly twangy voice but one smoother, more decisive, perplexingly familiar, that finally vibrated, "Hello! Hello! Miss Boltwood! Operator, I can't hear. Get me a better connection. Miss Boltwood?"
"Yes! Yes! This is Miss Boltwood!" she kept beseeching, during a long and not unheated controversy between the unknown and the crisp operator, who knew nothing of the English language beyond, "Here's your party. Why don't you talk? Speak louder!"
Then came clearly, "Hear me now?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Miss Boltwood?"
"Yes?"
"Oh. Oh, hello, Claire. This is Jeff."
"Jess who?"
"Not Jess. Jeff! Geoffrey! J-e-f-f! Jeff Saxton!"
"Oh!" It was like a sob. "Why—why—but you're in New York."