Willoughby's mistress, on the other hand, made no reply whatsoever; indeed it would have been impossible to be sure she had heard. "How different she is," thought Tucker, "in the presence of a man she really respects, and recognizes as her superior. All the levity and coquetry disappear from her bearing." "I was truly sorry," he went on, drawing nearer and nearer to the range, "to have been the occasion--" "You had better be careful, sir," she said, still without looking at him, "these sauces sometimes boil over." And as she spoke she put a spoon into the pan, and the next instant Tucker felt a small but burning drop fall upon his hand. He started back with an exclamation. "I am truly sorry, sir," she said, "to have been the occasion--" He glanced at her sharply. Was she conscious of repeating his own phrase? She seemed to be wholly absorbed in her task. He noticed how prettily the hair grew at the back of her neck, how small and well shaped were her ears. His manner became even more protecting. "I am an older man than your employer--" he began. "Yes, indeed, sir." He decided not to notice the interruption. "I am older and have seen more of life. I understand more, perhaps, of the difficulties of a young, and I must say, beautiful woman, Jane-Ellen--" "Why must you say that, sir?" Her eyes fixed themselves on his. "Because it is the truth, my dear child." He again approached the range, but as a fountain instantly rose from the sauce he retreated and continued: "I would like, if any little troubles in the household arise, to know that you look upon me as a friend, both you and Willoughby." (He thought it not amiss to introduce the comic note now and again.) "I have some influence with Mr. Crane. I should be glad to do you a good turn." "You can do me one now, sir." "Pray, tell me what it is." "You can go away and let me get the dinner." "You want me to go?" "The kitchen is no place for gentlemen." Tucker laughed tolerantly. "Did you think so ten minutes ago?" For the second time she looked in his direction, as she asked quickly: "What do you mean?" "Your last visitor was not so respectful." She had put down the saucepan now, and so he approached and tried to take her hand. Perhaps this is as good a time as any other to describe the sensation of taking Jane-Ellen's hand. The ordinary mortal put out an ordinary hand, and touched something, something presumably flesh and blood, but so light, so soft, so pliant, that it seemed literally to melt into the folds of his palm, so that even after the hand had been withdrawn (and in this instance it was instantly withdrawn) the feeling seemed to remain, and Tucker found himself staring at his own fingers to see if they did not still bear traces of that remarkable contact. It was just at this moment that Brindlebury entered the kitchen and said, in a tone which no one could have considered respectful, that the motor was coming up the drive.