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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

There's danger and trouble of every sort brewing, and Semyonov, as
you know, is helping it on wherever he can. Well, now, what I want to
know is, how much have you seen of Markovitch lately, and has he talked
to you?"
Bohun considered. "I've seen very little of him," he said at last. "I
think he avoids me now. He's such a weird bird that it's impossible to
tell of what he's really thinking. I know he was pleased when I asked
him to dine with me at the Bear the other night. He looked _most
awfully_ pleased. But he wouldn't come. It was as though he suspected
that I was laying a trap for him."
"But what have you noticed about him otherwise?"
"Well, I've seen very little of him. He's sulky just now. He suspected
Lawrence, of course--always after that night of Nina's party. But I
think that he's reassured again. And of course it's all so ridiculous,
because there's nothing to suspect, absolutely nothing--is there?"
"Absolutely nothing," I answered firmly.
He sighed with relief. "Oh, you don't know how glad I am to hear that,"
he said. "Because, although I've _known_ that it was all right, Vera's
been so odd lately that I've wondered--you know how I care about Vera
and--"
"How do you mean--odd?" I sharply interrupted.


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