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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"


I'll punish all of you if we have any more politics. Beastly politics!
What do they matter? It's my birthday. My _birthday_, I tell you. It
_shan't_ be spoilt."
She seemed to me so excited as not to know what she was saying. What had
she seen? What did she know?... Meanwhile Grogoff was elated, wildly
pleased like a boy who, contrary to all his expectations, had won a
prize.
He went up to Markovitch with his hand out:
"Nicholas--forgive me--_Prasteete_--I forgot myself. I'm ashamed--my
abominable temper. We are friends. You were right, too. We talk here in
Russia too much, far too much, and when the moment comes for action we
shrink back. We see too far perhaps. Who knows? But you were right and I
am a fool. You've taught me a lesson by your nobility. Thank you,
Nicholas. And all of you--I apologise to all of you."
We moved away from the table. Vera came over to us, and then sat on the
sofa with her arm around Nina's neck. Nina was very quiet now, sitting
there, her cheeks flushed, smiling, but as though she were thinking of
something quite different.
Some one proposed that we should play "Petits Cheveaux.


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