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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

It
was Nina who controlled the situation. "Boris," she cried, "come here!"
We all waited in silence. He looked at her, a little sulkily, his head
hanging, but his eyes glancing up at her.
He seemed nothing then but a boy caught in some misdemeanour, obstinate,
sulky, but ready to make peace if a chance were offered him.
"Boris, come here!"
He moved across to her, looking her full in the face, his mouth sulky,
but his eyes rebelliously smiling.
"Well... well...."
She stood away from the table, drawn to her full height, her eyes
commanding him: "How dare you! Boris, how dare you! My
birthday--_mine_--and you've spoilt it, spoilt it all. Come here--up
close!"
He came to her until his hands were almost on her body; he hung his
head, standing over her.
She stood back as though she were going to strike him, then suddenly
with a laugh she sprang upon the chair beside her, flung her arms round
his neck and kissed him; then, still standing on the chair, turned and
faced us all.
"Now, that's enough--all of you. Michael, Uncle Ivan, Uncle Alexei,
Durdles--how dare you, all of you? You're all as bad--every one of you.


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