Do you suppose that I
have been more than a month here without discovering the facts? It's
your English friend Lawrence who is in love with Vera--and Vera with
him."
"That is a lie!" I cried.
He laughed. "You English," he said, "are not so unobservant as you seem,
but you hate facts. Vera and your friend Lawrence have been in love with
one another since their first meeting, and my dear nephew-in-law
Markovitch knows it."
"That's impossible," I cried. "He--"
"No," Semyonov replied, "I was wrong. He does not know it--he suspects.
And my nephew-in-law in a state of suspicion is a delightful study."
By now we were in a narrow street, so dark that we stumbled at every
step. We seemed to be quite alone.
It was I who now caught his arm. "Semyonov!" I said, and my urgency
stopped him so that he stood where he was. "Leave them alone! Leave them
alone! They've done no harm to you, they can offer you nothing, they are
not intelligent enough for you nor amusing enough. Even if it is true
what you say it will pass--Lawrence will go away. I will see that he
does. Only leave them alone! For God's sake, let them be!"
His face was very close to mine, and, looking at it in the gathering
dark, it was as though it were a face of glass behind which other faces
passed and repassed.
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