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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

"I know that I'm wicked and care only for
pleasure.... Vera's always saying so. But I can be better if you want me
to be."
This was flattering, but I knew that it was only her general happiness
that made her talk like that. And at once she was after something else.
"Your Englishman," she said, looking across the table at Lawrence, "I
like his face. I should be frightened of him, though."
"Oh no, you wouldn't," I answered. "He wouldn't hurt any one."
She continued to look at him and he, glancing up, their eyes met. She
smiled and he smiled. Then he raised his glass and drank.
"I mustn't drink," she called across the table. "It's only water and
that's bad luck."
"Oh, you can challenge any amount of bad luck--I'm sure," he called
back to her.
I fancied that Grogoff did not like this. He was drinking a great deal.
He roughly called Nina's attention.
"Nina... Ah--Nina!"
But she, although I am certain that she heard him, paid no attention.
He called again more loudly:
"Nina... Nina!"
"Well?" She turned towards him, her eyes laughing at him.
"Drink my health."
"I can't. I have only water.


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