Unlike most Russian aristocrat refugees, however, he seemed to have plenty of means. The house, just off Fifth Avenue in the Eighties, was beautifully if somewhat barbarically furnished, with a queer mixture of Occidental comfort in the shape of deep lounges and armchairs, and of Oriental splendor in many and rich hangings and cushions. The air of his rooms was heavy with perfume, and the man himself, with his pale skin, deep-set eyes and pointed beard, gave an impression of something equally exotic. We were the only guests and he welcomed us with almost effusive cordiality, myself included. But I did not take to him at all. After a few moments of general conversation, Mrs. Fawcette rose to her feet, smiling. “Droga,” she called to him—he was talking to Natalie—“I have brought something to show you. I am sure that the young people will excuse us for a moment!” Before I had recovered from my amused surprise at the somewhat crude method of classifying me with Natalie, Ivanovitch, our host, had risen to his feet with a smile and a bow and followed Mrs. Fawcette through a pair of heavy curtains into a room beyond. Natalie and I turned and stared at each other. “Well!” she laughed. Then her smile faded and she touched my arm. “But I’m glad you came,” she whispered. “I don’t think I like it here very much; I thought there were going to be a lot of people. At least, I thought that was what Mrs. Fawcette said.” “Natalie, dear,” I whispered, “don’t come here again without me! Promise!” I was very much in earnest, and the “dear” slipped out before I knew it, but fortunately she did not seem to notice it. “You are growing very dictatorial, sir!” she answered. “But all the same I don’t believe I do like it here. I’m glad you came.” A moment later the curtains parted and the others rejoined us. There was nothing to be learned from our host’s expression, for his face was a beautiful blank. But I thought Mrs. Fawcette bore traces of either temper or fear, and possibly both. But that was all that happened. We had tea, and I must say it was wonderful tea. But it was just tea and nothing more, of that I am certain. The conversation was general and interesting enough, and if Natalie was disappointed she naturally could not show it.