Nina had known Kate Titherington one summer at Bar Harbor, but her first
encounter with this flamboyant personality in Italy was at the Grand
Hotel a few days before the hunt. Nina was serving at one of the tables
of a charity tea, when she saw a very highly-colored, plump figure, with
draperies in full sail, bearing down upon her from the top of the wide
steps, at the back of the big red hall. The red of the hall paled beside
the cerise costume of the approaching lady. In a voice loud and
high-keyed, yet not unmusical, she cried:
"Well, I declare if it isn't little Nina Randolph!" And then with
exuberant good humor she called to her husband, who followed lamb-like
in her wake, "You see, Gio, it _is_ the little Randolph--I told you so!
"This is my husband." She presented him as though he were some inanimate
personal possession. "We have been in Paris and Monte Carlo all winter.
Got back yesterday. Nice old place, Rome, don't you think so? I dote on
it, but of course it gets provincial if you stay too long!" At the same
moment she caught sight of Zoya Olisco, and waved to her. To Nina's
surprise, the young Russian came forward with both hands outstretched.
"Ah, you are back? What was the news in Monte Carlo?"
"Nothing much. They still talk of the _coup_ that Tornik----" But before
Nina could hear the end of the sentence, the old Princess Malio handed
her a five-_lire_ note for tea, and Nina had to get change.
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