yet—several Légionnaires who had no axe to grind and who were not jealous of Luigi's fortune, had undoubtedly coupled his name with that of Madame.…
"An' haow did yew find yure little way to our dope-joint hyar?" the Bucking Bronco enquired of Mikhail Kyrilovitch, as he did the honours of Carmelita's "joint" to the three bleus who had entered while John Bull was talking to the Grasshopper.
"Well, since you arx, we jest ups an' follers you, old bloke, when yer goes aht wiv these two uvver Henglish coves," replied the Cockney.
The American regarded him with the eye of large and patient tolerance. He preferred the Russians, particularly Mikhail, and rejoiced that they spoke English. It would have been too much to have attempted to add a working knowledge of Russian to his other linguistic stores. Nevertheless, he would, out of compliment to their nationality, produce such words of their strange tongue as he could command. It might serve to make them feel more at home like.
"I'm afraid I can't ask yew moojiks ter hev a little caviare an' wodky, becos' Carmelita is out of it.… But there's cawfy in the sammy-var I hev no doubt," he said graciously.
The Russians thanked him, and Feodor pledging him in a glass of absinthe, promised to teach him the art of concocting lompopo, while Mikhail quietly sipped his glass of sticky, sweet Algerian wine.
Restless Carmelita joined the group, and her friend Jean Boule introduced the three new patrons.
"Prahd an' honoured, Miss, I'm shore," said the Cockney. "'Ave a port-an'-lemon or thereabahts?"
But Carmelita was too interested in the startling
