“My dear, I’m much too old and stupid for you to bother about!”
She put her hand on my arm. “I know that I’m wicked and care only for pleasure.... Vera’s always saying so. But I can be better if you want me to be.”
This was flattering, but I knew that it was only her general happiness that made her talk like that. And at once she was after something else. “Your Englishman,” she said, looking across the table at Lawrence, “I like his face. I should be frightened of him, though.”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t,” I answered. “He wouldn’t hurt any one.”
She continued to look at him and he, glancing up, their eyes met. She smiled and he smiled. Then he raised his glass and drank.
“I mustn’t drink,” she called across the table. “It’s only water and that’s bad luck.”
“Oh, you can challenge any amount of bad luck—I’m sure,” he called back to her.
I fancied that Grogoff did not like this. He was drinking a great deal. He roughly called Nina’s attention.
“Nina... Ah—Nina!”
But she, although I am certain that she heard him, paid no attention.