“What, alone?”
“No, the little boy’s going with me. He’s my cavalier.”
“Cavalier! Ha! Ha!” repeated Grischka merrily, stamping his bare feet.
“And what are you doing here?” she asked.
“Oh! we’re just having a drink together.”
“You said ‘we’?”
“Yes—Schafroff, Svarogitsch, Ivanoff …”
“Oh! Yourii Nicolaijevitsch is with you, is he?” asked Sina, and she blushed. To utter the name of him she loved sent a thrill through her as though she were looking down into some precipice.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because—er—I met him,” she answered, blushing deeper.