She came in, sat down at the table, put her head into her arms and burst
into tears. She must have looked a very pathetic figure with her little
fur hat askew, her hair tumbled--like a child whose doll is suddenly
broken.
Vera was at her side in a moment. She put her arms around her.
"Nina, dear, what is it?... Has somebody hurt you? Has something
happened? Is anybody--killed?"
"No!" Nina sobbed. "Nobody--nothing--only--I'm frightened. It all looks
so strange. The streets are so funny, and--there was--a dead man on the
Morskaia."
"You shouldn't have gone out, dear. I oughtn't to have let you. But now
we can just be cosy together. Sacha's gone out. There's no one here but
ourselves. We'll have supper and make ourselves comfortable."
Nina looked up, staring about her. "Has Sacha gone out? Oh, I wish she
hadn't!... Supposing somebody came."
"No one will come. Who could? No one wants to hurt _us!_ I've been here
all the afternoon, and no one's come near the flat. If anybody did come
we've only got to telephone to Nicholas. He's with Rozanov all the
afternoon."
"Nicholas!" Nina repeated scornfully.
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