Barbara drew an audible short breath and Doria instinctively moved within the protective area of Adrian's arm. Jaffery, with knitted brow, leaned against one of the posts supporting the old wistaria arbour and said nothing, leaving me to exploit the lady.
"But you speak perfect English," said I.
"I was raised in Chicago. My parents were employed in the stockyards of Armour. My father was the man who slit the throats of the pigs. He was a dandy," she said in unemotional tones—and I noticed a little shiver of repulsion ripple through Barbara and Doria. "When I was twelve, my father kind of inherited lands in Albania, and we went back. Is there anything more you'd like to know?"
She looked us all up and down, rather down than up, for she towered above us, perfectly unconcerned mistress of the situation. Naturally we made mute appeal to Jaffery. He stirred his huge bulk from the post and plunged his hands into his pockets.
"I should like to know, Liosha," said he, in a rumble like thunder, "why you have left my sister Euphemia and what you are doing here?"
"Euphemia is a damn fool," she said serenely. "She's a freak. She ought to go round in a show."
"What have you been quarrelling about?" he asked.
"I never quarrel," she replied, regarding him with her calm brown eyes. "It is not dignified."
"Then I repeat, most politely, Liosha—what are you doing here?"
She looked at Barbara. "I guess it isn't right to talk of money before strangers."