crane

No man could close out an interview so effectually as Crane.

Porter's voice made Crane jump; he had almost forgotten the race.

Like an inspiration it came to the girl what had affected her so disagreeably in Crane—it was his eyes.

"I wonder what he meant by that," Langdon mused to himself, as Crane moved away.

"He did; but—" and Crane looked at Faust, with patient toleration of his lack of perception.

Porter laughed at the idea that responsibility could attach to Crane.

"Yes, I was there," Crane added, answering the question that was in them.

"I'm glad of that—I mean, that you know Smith," declared Crane.

After Langdon had left Crane's thoughts dwelt on the subject they had just discussed.

From desiring the farm, insensibly Crane drifted into coveting the mare.