They started again toward the door. Drexel crouched with tense muscles, determined to make the best struggle that was in him.
But Sonya quietly slipped her hand through Berloff’s arm. “Won’t you take me in to the dining-room? It will be very stupid eating in that great room alone.”
“With pleasure,” said the prince. “Captain, please wait for me here.”
“Certainly, certainly!” said the officer.
“Then come, Olga.”
The captain, with one hand on the back of the leather chair in which he was going to be comfortable for the next half-hour, bowed low to them.
“I trust the captain will not take his mistake too much to heart,” said Sonya, her manner relenting somewhat. “Perhaps he, too, would like something to eat after his drive from the station?”
“No, no—don’t think of me, princess,” protested the humbled officer. “I am not hungry—not in the least.”
Sonya unbent a little more. “Then a glass of tea?”
“No—really—thank you——”