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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

...
"Look here, Semyonov," I said, slipping from the control of his hand,
"it's just as you say. We don't like one another, and we know one
another well enough to say so. Neither you nor I wish to revive the
past, and there's nothing in the present that we have in common."
"Nothing!" He laughed. "What about my delightful nieces and their home
circle? You were always one to shrink from the truth, Ivan Andreievitch.
You fancy that you can sink into the bosom of a charming family and
escape the disadvantages.... Not at all. There are always disadvantages
in a Russian family. _I_ am the disadvantage in this one." He laughed
again, and insisted on taking my arm once more. "If you feel so strongly
about me, Durward" (when he used my surname he always accented the
second syllable very strongly) "all you have to do is to cut my niece
Vera out of your visiting list. That, I imagine, is the last thing that
you wish. Well, then--"
"Vera Michailovna is my friend," I said hotly--it was foolish of me to
be so easily provoked, but I could not endure his sneering tone. "If you
imply--"
"Nonsense," he answered sharply, "I imply nothing.


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