Henry then took courage. "That's all
nonsense, Markovitch," he said. "I suppose by 'your English friend' you
mean Lawrence. He thinks the world of your wife, of course, as we all
do, but he's not the fellow to be in love. I don't suppose he's ever
been really in love with a woman in his life. He's a kindly good-hearted
chap, Lawrence, and he wouldn't do harm to a fly."
Markovitch peered into Bohun's face. "What did you come here for, any of
you?" he asked. "What's Russia over-run with foreigners for? We'll clear
the lot of you out, all of you...." Then he broke off, with a pathetic
little gesture, his hand up to his head. "But I don't know what I'm
saying--I don't mean it, really. Only things are so difficult, and they
slip away from one so.
"I love Russia and I love my wife, Mr. Bohun--and they've both left me.
But you aren't interested in that. Why should you be? Only remember when
you're inclined to laugh at me that I'm like a man in a cockle-shell
boat--and it isn't my fault. I was put in it."
"But I'm never inclined to laugh," said Bohun eagerly. "I may be young
and only an Englishman--but I shouldn't wonder if I don't understand
better than you think.
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