Alexis did not drink. Anne loathed a whisky-laden breath. He sat down at the piano and allowed his fingers to wander over the keys.
“Oh, do play, Mr. Petrovskey. I’m just crazy to hear you!” The fluffy one pirouetted up to the piano.
Jules reëntered the room, accompanied by Ellen’s chauffeur. She beckoned him across the room.
“What’s the matter, George? Can’t you fix the car?”
“No ma’am, I can’t. The key to the wheel is lost, and there ain’t a garage open anywheres. I’ve been all over the country with Mr. what’s his name’s chauffeur.”
Ellen’s eyes were glued expectantly upon Alexis. “What shall we do?” she wailed.
He looked at her and then at the others, with an amused expression. Their air of open-mouthed expectancy was ludicrous, and reminded him of a lot of goldfish waiting to be fed.
“I’m afraid you will have to resign yourselves to spending the night,” he said suavely. “I can easily put you up.” (Far more easily than I can put up with you).
“How delightful of you. It will be quite an adventure.” Ellen rolled her eyes.
“I’m simply crazy about the idea. You know, I’ve fallen dreadfully in love with you, Mr. Petrovskey.” Olive laid her hand upon the keyboard, ingratiatingly. He shook it off lightly and rose from the piano.