Not strictly that, of course;
we must allow for race; but it's how one has to think of Russia."
Again Mrs. Borisoff scrutinised him as he spoke, averting her eyes
at length with an absent smile.
"Here comes my tutelary teapot," she said, as a pretty maid-servant
entered with a tray. "A phrase I got from Irene, by the bye--from
Miss Derwent, who laughs at my carrying the thing about in my
luggage. She has clever little phrases of that sort, as you know."
"Yes," fell from Piers, dreamily. "But it's so long since I heard
her talk."
When he had received his cup of tea, and sipped from it, he asked
with a serious look:
"Will you tell me about her?"
"Of course I will. But you must first tell me about yourself. You
were in business in London, I believe?"
"For about a year. Then I found myself with enough to live upon, and
came back to Russia. I had lived at Odessa----"
"You may presuppose a knowledge of what came before," interrupted
Mrs. Borisoff, with a friendly nod.
"I lived for several months with Korolevitch, on his estate near
Poltava. We used to talk--heavens! how we talked! Sometimes eight
hours at a stretch. I learnt a great deal. Then I wandered up and
down Russia, still learning."
"Writing, too?"
"The time hadn't come for writing. Korolevitch gave me no end of
useful introductions. I've had great luck on my travels."
"Pray, when did you make your studies of English women?"
Piers tried to laugh; declared he did not know.
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