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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"


Just believe me when I say that I've come to say good-bye. I have an
intuition that we shall never talk together again. I may be wrong. But
my intuitions are generally correct."
I noticed then that his face was haggard, his eyes dark, the light in
them exhausted as though he had not slept.... I had never before seen
him show positive physical distress. Let his soul be what it might, his
body seemed always triumphant.
"Whether your intuition is right or no," I said, "this _is_ the last
time. I never intend to speak to you again if I can help it. The day
that I hear that you have really left us, never to return, will be one
of the happiest days of my life."
Semyonov gave me a strange look, humorous, ironical, and, upon my word,
almost affectionate: "That's very sad what you say, Ivan
Andreievitch--if you mean it. And I suppose you mean it, because you
English always do mean what you say.... But it's sad because, truly, I
have friendly feelings towards you, and you're almost the only man in
the world of whom I could say that."
"You speak as though your friendship were an honour," I said hotly.


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