"That sounds almost like a threat," I laughed.
"God forbid!" she ejaculated with true Russian piety. "It is that I envy you your security. All Serge and I can do is to wait and plot and plot and wait."
"Are you staying in England?" I asked.
"Only temporarily. We shall be in Paris shortly. Perhaps you would care to call when you—"
"I haven't any present intention of going to Paris," I cut in.
"I can't believe you," she replied. "Don't all good Americans expect to go to Paris when they die? Perhaps you will travel elsewhere, no?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You Americans are so venturesome," she sighed. "One never really knew you as a people until the War."
I happened to look up at that moment, and surprised the Italian in one of his lightning surveys of the room.
"Your friend there seems exclusive," I remarked.