She had got herself into it; she had to tell him that he wasn't just a business man; that she had "just meant" he was so practical.
"But Jeff is no longer the practical one," he declared. "Think of Claire driving over deserts and mountains. But---- Oh, it's been so lonely for us. Can you guess how much? A dozen times every evening, I've turned to the telephone to call you up and beg you to let me nip in and see you, and then realized you weren't there, and I've just sat looking at the 'phone---- Oh, other people are so dull!"
"I wish I were a poet, so I could tell you adequately. But you haven't said you missed me, Claire. Didn't you, a teeny bit? Wouldn't it have been tolerable to have poor old Jeff along, to drive down dangerous hills----"
"And fill grease-cups! Nasty and stickum on the fingers!"
"Yes, I'd have done that, too. And invented surprises along the way. I'm a fine surpriser! I've arranged for a motor-boat so we can explore the lake here tomorrow. That's why I had you wait here instead of coming on to Kalispell. Tomorrow morning, unfortunately, I have to hustle back and catch a train--called to California, and possibly a northern trip. But meantime---- By now, my driver must have sneaked my s'prises into the kitchen."
"But what? Please, sir. Claire is so hungry."
"We shall see in time, my child. Uncle Jeff is not to be hurried."
"Ah--let--me--see--now! I'll kick and scream!"
From New York Jeff had brought a mammoth picnic basket. To the fried chicken ordered for dinner he added sealed jars of purée of wood pigeon, of stuffed artichokes prepared by his club chef; caviar and anchovies; a marvelous nightmare-creating fruit cake to go with the whipped cream; two quarts of a famous sherry; candied fruits in a silver box. Dinner was served not on the dining-porch but before the fire in the Barmberrys' living-room. Claire looked at the candied fruits, stared at Jeff rather queerly--as though she was really thinking of some one else--and mused:
"I didn't know I cared so much for these foolish luxuries. Tonight, I'd like a bath, just a tiny bit scented, and a real dressing-table with a triple mirror, and French talc, and come down in a dinner-gown---- Oh, I have enjoyed the trip, Jeff. But my poor body does get so tired and dusty, and then you treacherously come along with these things that you've magicked out of the mountains and---- I'm not a pioneer woman, after all. And Henry B. is not a caveman. See him act idolatrously toward his soup."