Seeing that her companion remained silent in uncertainty, she murmured an introduction,—
'Do you know my cousin Julian? Prince Ardalion Miloradovitch.'
The Russian bowed with a bad grace, seeing that he must yield his place to Julian. When he had gone, unwillingly tactful and full of resentment, she twitted her cousin,—
'Implacable as always, when you want your own way! I notice you have neither outgrown your tyrannical selfishness nor left it behind in England.'
'I have never seen that man before; who is he?'
'A Russian. Not unattractive. I am engaged to him,' she replied negligently.
'You are going to marry him?'
She shrugged.
'Perhaps, ultimately. More probably not.'
'And what will he do if you throw him over?' Julian asked with a certain curiosity.