"But you are so extraordinarily pale."
"I have parted with my colour to Mademoiselle Aksakoff. See, she blooms like an artificial rose."
"Why artificial? Her bloom is natural."
"And her spirits are forced. A hothouse is Nature's corset."
"I don't know what you mean," said Askew, bluntly; "you are a puzzle."
"Which is as much as to say that I am a woman. I wish you would cease personalities and refill my glass."
This sounded more bacchanalian than it was, for the glass contained nothing more destructive to the nerves than straw-coloured tea, prepared, milkless, in the Russian manner, with plenty of sugar and a squeeze of lemon. Katinka presided over a samovar, and dispensed caviare sandwiches, so that the meal was entirely Muscovite. Aksakoff, stiff and pale and lean, precisely dressed and watchful as a cat, paid diplomatic compliments to Lady Richardson, while Captain Lake laughed with Katinka. Miss Mulrady had annexed a flattering vicomte who wanted money in exchange for a name which dated from the Crusades, and Askew hovered, like the silly moth he was, round Lady Jim's superfine wax candle. This possible tragedy of singed wings doubly and trebly assured Katinka of Leah's honesty, for who could love the demi-god Demetrius and trifle with a nautical butterfly? Thus did she argue, crediting her once rival and now ally with the infatuation which, in Fairyland, made Titania clip Bottom in her arms.
"The air of this place suits you," said Lake, wondering at this bubbling gaiety; "you were pale and sad when we last met, Mademoiselle."
"I may be the same when we meet again," she replied, refilling Lady Jim's glass. "What would you? Moods are agreeable."
"Hum! I don't choose April as the most enjoyable month of the year."