She looked up at me just as she used to do.
"Durdles--is Vera all right?"
"She's miserable, Nina, because you're not there. Come back to us."
But she shook her head.
"No, no, I can't. Give her my--" Then she stopped. "No, tell her
nothing."
"Can I tell her you're happy?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm all right," she answered roughly, turning away from me.
X
But the adventures of that Easter Monday night were not yet over. I had
walked away with Bohun; he was very silent, depressed, poor boy, and shy
with the reaction of his outburst.
"I made the most awful fool of myself," he said.
"No, you didn't," I answered.
"The trouble of it is," he said slowly, "that neither you nor I see the
humorous side of it all strongly enough. We take it too seriously. It's
got a funny side all right."
"Maybe you're right," I said. "But you must remember that the Markovitch
situation isn't exactly funny just now--and we're both in the middle of
it. Oh! if only I could find Nina back home and Semyonov away, I believe
the strain would lift. But I'm frightened that something's going to
happen. I've grown very fond of these people, you know, Bohun--Vera and
Nina and Nicholas.
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