Why should I so honor them?
Bah! let them come to me! Is a Russian--is a nobleman to be at the beck of such vile little people?
No, they must come to me, your Storri, my San Reve; and when they arrive, bah! I shall not see them.

I shall tell them they must come again!" And Storri lifted his hand grandly, as though the Harleys were now disposed of and their trivial status fixed.
Storri threw this off with a lazy insolence that, all things considered, did him credit.

And yet he was not wise.

He might not have told the San Reve that he had ended his visits to the Harleys, but her bold brow and thoughtful face misled him.

He regarded her as deeper than she was; he considered that she would soon discover how he no longer was a guest at the Harley table, and thought to save himself from an inference by a proclamation.