Only application as you know is my trouble.
If I could only shut my brain up...."
He told me then, I remember, a lot about his early childhood, and then
the struggle that he had had to see one thing at once, and not two or
three things that got in the way and hindered him from doing anything.
He went on about Vera.
"You know that one night I had crept up into your room, and looked to
see whether there were possibly a letter there. That was a disgraceful
thing to do, wasn't it? But I felt then that I had to satisfy myself. I
wonder whether I can make you understand. It wasn't jealousy exactly,
because I had never felt that I had had any very strong right over Vera,
considering the way that she had married me; but I don't think I ever
loved her more than I did during those weeks, and she was unattainable.
I was lonely, Ivan Andreievitch, that's the truth. Everything seemed to
be slipping away from me, and in some way Alexei Petrovitch Semyonov
seemed to accentuate that. He was always reminding me of one day or
another when I had been happy with Vera long ago--some silly little
expedition we had taken--or he was doubtful about my experiments being
any good, or he would recall what I had felt about Russia at the
beginning of the war.
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