Mr.Sabin's expression was immutable.

It was he who scored, for he marked the change, whilst Mr.Brott could not be sure whether he had noticed it or not.
"You have been living in America, then ?" "For several years--yes." "It is a country," Mr.Brott said, "which I am particularly anxious to visit.

I see my chances, however, grow fewer and fewer as the years go by." "For one like yourself," Mr.Sabin said, "whose instincts and sympathies are wholly with the democracy, a few months in America would be very well spent." "And you," Mr.Brott remarked, "how did you get on with the people ?" Mr.Sabin traced a pattern with his stick upon the marble floor.
"I lived in the country," he said, "I played golf and read and rested." "Were you anywhere near New York ?" Mr.Brott asked.
"A few hours' journey only," Mr.Sabin answered.

"My home was in a very picturesque part, near Lenox." Mr.Brott leaned a little forward.
"You perhaps know then a lady who spent some time in that neighbourhood--a Mrs.James Peterson.

Her husband was, I believe, the American consul in Vienna." Mr.Sabin smiled very faintly.