"'You must come again,' said Mrs. Sarafov, drawing her shawl round her fine shoulders. 'We don't often see people from the other side. In the afternoon, eh? And Miss Macedoine, she'll come over.'
"'Then you don't think there will be any trouble?' I asked. 'Any fighting, I mean.'
"'We never interfere in politics,' she answered, drily. 'So long as you mind your own business and let them fight it out among 'emselves, you're safe enough here, I should say.'
"'What is it all about?' I demanded.
"'That's more than I can tell you,' she answered with disarming candour. 'Taxes mostly, I guess. But you have to pay 'em to somebody.' And then she added cryptically: 'I don't know as we'll be any better off if they was to win.'
"Well, we talked a little longer and then the girl, who had run into the house for a shawl, stepped along beside me with her long, sure-footed stride and we started up the dark street. There were very few lights about now and from time to time she put her hand on my arm as we came to a gap in the sidewalk.
"'And so,' I said in a low tone, 'you are a great friend of Miss Macedoine, I understand.'
"'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I like her very much. She tells me everything.'
"'Everything?' She nodded, leaning forward and looking up at me in a certain demure, elvish fashion.
"'Yes!' she replied, dwelling on the word with tremendous emphasis. 'Everything. About you, when you come to see her in London, you know. Oh, she like you. She like you very much. When she know you have come, she'll be crazy.'