But they
must be as they are, I suppose. I've just been with her. She's nearly
out of her mind with worry."
He paused, puffing furiously at his pipe. Then he went on:
"She's worrying about me, about Nina, and about Nicholas. And especially
about Nicholas. There's something wrong with him. He knows about my
kissing her in the flat. Well, that's all right. I meant him to know.
Everything's just got to be above-board. But Semyonov knows too, and
that devil's been raggin' him about it, and Nicholas is just like a
bloomin' kid. That's got to stop. I'll wring that feller's neck. But
even that wouldn't help matters much. Vera says Nicholas is not to be
hurt whatever happens. 'Never mind us,' she says, 'we're strong and can
stand it.' But he can't. He's weak. And she says he's just goin' off his
dot. And it's got to be stopped--it's just got to be stopped. There's
only one way to stop it."
He stayed: suddenly he put his heavy hand on my knee.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I've got to clear out. That's what I mean. Right away out. Back to
England."
I didn't speak.
"That's it," he went on, but now as though he were talking to himself.
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