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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

I should have
been, I suppose, ashamed of her, indignant for her, but I could only
feel that she was, poor child, in for the most desperate rebuff. I could
see from where I sat her cheek, hot and crimson, and her shrill voice
never stopped.
The interval arrived, to my intense relief, and we all went out into the
dark passage that smelt of sawdust and horses. Almost at once Nina
detached me from the others and walked off with me towards the lighted
hall.
"You saw," she said.
"Saw what?" I asked.
"Saw what I was doing."
I felt that she was quivering all over, and she looked so ridiculously
young, with her trembling lip and blue hat on one side and burning
cheeks, that I felt that I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss and
pet her.
"I saw that you had your hand on his knee," I said. "That was silly of
you, Nina."
"Why shouldn't I?" she answered furiously. "Why shouldn't I enjoy life
like every one else? Why should Vera, have everything?"
"Vera!" I cried. "What has it to do with Vera?"
She didn't answer my question. She put her hand on my arm, pressing
close up to me as though she wanted my protection.


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