I saw Nikka shift his attention at this from the two Russians to the Levantine, an olive-skinned individual, good-looking in a portly way, with a predatory beaked nose, effeminate eyes and a sensual mouth.
"You see we're rather an international crowd—what?" Mrs. Hilyer was drawling. "Matter of fact, Lord Chesby, we might muster another race or two."
"Very interesting, I'm sure," said Hugh, cold as ever. "You won't mind if I present my friends to you as a group? Thanks. This is Mr. Zaranko—and Mr. Nash."
"Not Mr. Nikka Zaranko?" exclaimed Mrs. Hilyer. "Oh, I say, it is a treat to meet you! How wonderfully you play!"
And she wrenched Nikka away from his obvious intent to probe the Levantine, and carried him off to a corner, along with Vassilievich, a slim-waisted, old-young man, with a hard, dissipated face. Hilmi, after a look around, joined the gorilla-like Italian, who was turning the pages of a review on the table, with occasional flashing glances about the room. Montey Hilyer was volubly describing the prospects of the racing season to Hugh, and I was left by process of elimination to entertain the Countess Sandra Yassilievna.
I think both Hugh and Nikka envied me the chance. She was a dark girl, with great, sleepy, almond-shaped eyes and a sinuous, willowy figure.
"You're an American, aren't you?" she said with a very slight accent. "How do you happen to know Lord Chesby?"
I explained to her.
"He went to New York to earn his living! Ah, that is an old story, Mr. Nash. Look at my brother and me! Exiles! Forced to turn our hands to whatever we can do. The Old World is a sad place these days."
I felt like telling her that I didn't believe it would hurt her sort to do a little work, but instead I asked her what she did do.