'Perhaps I was, papa,' said Clare, submissively, but with a sparkle in her eyes that contradicted her words. 'Or perhaps his foot hurt him so much that he couldn't come down.' 'If he doesn't come up after dinner we'd better make inquiries.' But he did come up after dinner, and when he entered, limping slightly, Mr Stanley received him with as much effusion as could be shown by an old gentleman after a heavy meal. 'My daughter tells me you are staying in this hotel,' he began; and as Litvinoff, taking this as an introduction, bowed low to her, with his eyes on the ground, she hoped he did not notice the sudden flush that swept over her face. But he did; there was, in fact, very little that went on within a dozen yards of him that Count Litvinoff did not notice. 'How strange that you should have been on the spot last night, and how fortunate.' 'It was fortunate for me, since it has procured for me this pleasure. May I hope that you are not any the worse for the shock?' 'No, I'm not; but I'm afraid you are; do sit down.' As Litvinoff and her father went on talking, Clare, who had not yet spoken a word, could not help thinking that this gentleman with the foreign name was somehow very different from any man she had hitherto met, not even excepting those fine specimens of young English manhood, the Ferriers. There was about him that air of worldliness which is so attractive to young people. 'He looks as if he had a history,' she said to herself, with conviction; a remark which did credit to her powers of observation. She liked his voice and his way of speaking, for though his English was perfect, he spoke it with a precision not usual to Englishmen. 'Will you have tea or coffee?' asked Clare presently, busying herself with the cups and saucers that had been brought in. 'Mr Litvinoff will have coffee, of course, my dear; young men don't like tea nowadays.' 'I can't claim to be very young,' said the other, smiling, 'but I do like tea.' 'Ah! you would just please my wife; she says that a liking for tea in a young man is a sign of a good moral disposition.' 'I'm afraid in my case it's national instinct, not moral beauty.' 'National!' repeated Mr Stanley, 'national! Why, God bless my soul, you aren't Chinese, are you?' The guest threw his head back and laughed unaffectedly; and Clare smiled behind the tea-tray. 'Oh, no; I'm only a Russian.' 'Oh, ah,' said Mr Stanley, in a rather disappointed tone. For the moment he had been quite pleased at the thought that here was actually a Chinese who could talk excellent English, and whose garments were not exactly the same, to the uninitiated, as those of his wife and mother. 'You speak English uncommonly well,' he went on.