"Here it is," cried Joan, fishing under the table, and picking up what Lady Jim had purposely dropped.
"Thanks awfully, dear. Mr. Askew, M. Demetrius, do not trouble. Give me the teapot, Joan. Ah!" she babbled on, while filling the cups--"What a pity we have not glasses, so that you could drink the tea in your own fashion, M. Demetrius. M. Aksakoff, we did so enjoy the novelty at your Monte Carlo villa. Still, here is a lemon; slice it, Joan, dear. Do sit down, doctor. M. Aksakoff, you can be waiter."
"Allow me," cried Askew, half rising.
"Sit where you are," said Leah, sharply; "you'll upset the table. M. Aksakoff!"
"With pleasure, madame;" and he obliged her with stiff cordiality.
Leah wiped her lips, which were dry, and stole a stealthy glance at the cup which he handed to the doctor. It was of a deep blue colour. "Augh!" she breathed, as he set it to his lips.
"You are wearied with your duties, madame," conjectured Aksakoff, sipping with gusto; "and I, alas, can relieve you only by acting as waiter."
"You are a guest now," she rejoined, with a nervous laugh; "is the tea to your liking?"
"Most delightful tea," said Demetrius, courteously.
"You compliment the decoction too highly. Tea on the Continent is like rain in the Sahara. I except Russia, of course," she ended, smiling.