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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

I was deceiving myself as I have often deceived myself
before. Alexei showed me that. He told me that they were no good--"
"But I thought that he encouraged you?"
"Yes--at first--only at first. Afterwards he saw into them more
clearly; he changed his mind. I think he was only intending to be kind.
A strange man... a strange man...."
"A very strange man. Don't you let him influence you, Nicholas
Markovitch."
"Influence me? Do you think he does that?" He suddenly came close to me,
catching my arm.
"I don't know. I haven't seen you often together."
"Perhaps he does... _Mojet bweet_... You may be right. I don't know--I
don't know what I feel about him at all. Sometimes he seems to me very
kind; sometimes I'm frightened of him, sometimes"--here he dropped his
voice--"he makes me very angry, so angry that I lose control of
myself--a despicable thing... a despicable thing... just as I used to
feel about the old man to whom I was secretary. I nearly murdered him
once. In the middle of the night I thought suddenly of his stomach, all
round and white and shining. It was an irresistible temptation to plunge
a knife into it.


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