"The other night I was awake--about two in the morning it was--and
wanted a book--so I went into the dining-room. I'd only got bedroom
slippers on and I was stopped at the door by a sound. It was Semyonov
sitting over by the further window, in his shirt and trousers, his beard
in his hands, and sobbing as though his heart would break. I'd never
heard a man cry like that. I hate hearing a man cry anyway. I've heard
fellers at the Front when they're off their heads or something... but
Semyonov was worse than that. It was a strong man crying, with all his
wits about him.... Then I heard some words. He kept repeating again and
again. 'Oh, my dear, my dear, my dear!... Wait for me!... Wait for me!
Wait for me!...' over and over again--awful! I crept back to my room
frightened out of my life. I've never known anything so awful. And
Semyonov of all people!
"It was like that man in _Wuthering Heights_. What's his name?
Heathcliffe! I always thought that was a bit of an exaggeration when he
dashed his head against a tree and all that. But, by Jove, you never
know!... Now, Durward, you've got to tell me.
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