She shook her head, but she was not displeased. He took out a fat chocolate-colored cigar and fingered it wistfully.
“I suppose I mustn’t smoke?” he queried.
Her quick answer surprised herself.
“I should hope you could, if that woman can!”
“Which one?”
“That Mrs. Ranger, the one near the samovar—that big brass thing. Liz—Elise didn’t introduce her to you. They don’t introduce people the way they do at home, Cousin Lorando—I hope you didn’t mind. They think it’s awkward.”
“Oh, Lord, no, I don’t mind. I can spare her, anyway. She’s checked up too high for me. But she can look you through pretty thoroughly, can’t she?”
“She writes books,” Miss Trueman returned, the finality of her tone indicating that she had explained any possible idiosyncrasy of the lady in question.
