I like him, too. I like him very much. But you never let me
talk to him. You never--"
"Quiet, Nina." Vera's voice was trembling. Her face was sterner than I'd
ever seen it. "You're making me angry."
"I don't care how angry I make you. It's true. You're impossible now.
Why shouldn't I have my friends? I've nobody now. You never let me have
anybody. And I like Mr. Lawrence--"
She began to sob, looking the most desolate figure.
Vera turned.
"You don't know what you've said, Nina, nor how you've hurt.... You can
go to your party as you please--"
And before I could stop her she was gone.
Nina turned to me a breathless, tearful face. She waited; we heard the
door below closed.
"Oh, Durdles, what have I done?"
"Go after her! Stop her!" I said.
Nina vanished and I was alone. My room was intensely quiet.
XVII
They didn't come to see me again together. Vera came twice, kind and
good as always, but with no more confidences; and Nina once with flowers
and fruit and a wild chattering tongue about the cinemas and Smyrnov,
who was delighting the world at the Narodny Dom, and the wonderful
performance of Lermontov's "Masquerade" that was shortly to take place
at the Alexander Theatre.
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