I’ve no idea when he first thought of Nina.  He did not, of course, like her at the beginning, and I doubt whether she caused him any real concern, too, until her flight to Grogoff.  That shocked him terribly.  He confessed as much to me.  She had always been so happy and easy about life.  Nothing was serious to her.  I remember once telling her she ought to take the war more deeply.  I was a bit of a prig about it, I suppose.  At any rate she thought me one....  And then to go off to a fellow like Grogoff!

He thought of it the more seriously when he saw the agony Vera was in.  She did not ask him to help her, and so he did nothing; but he watched her efforts, the letters that she wrote, the eagerness with which she ravished the post, her fruitless visits to Grogoff’s flat, her dejected misery over her failure.  He began himself to form plans, not, I am convinced, from any especial affection for Nina, but simply because he had the soul of a knight, although, thank God, he didn’t know it.  I expect, too, that he was pretty dissatisfied with his knight-errantries.  His impassioned devotion to Vera had led to nothing at all, his enthusiasm for Russia had led to a most unsatisfactory Revolution, and his fatherly protection of Markovitch had inspired apparently nothing more fruitful than distrust.  I would like to emphasise that it was in no way from any desire to interfere in other people’s affairs that young Bohun undertook these Quests.  He had none of my own meddlesome quality.  He had, I think, very little curiosity and no psychological self-satisfaction, but he had a kind heart, an adventurous spirit, and a hatred for the wrong and injustice which seemed just now to be creeping about the world; but all this, again thank God, was entirely subconscious.  He knew nothing whatever about himself.

The thought of Nina worried him more and more.  After he went to bed at night, he would hear her laugh and see her mocking smile and listen to her shrill imitations of his own absurdities.  She had been the one happy person amongst them all, and now—!  Well, he had seen enough of Boris Grogoff to know what sort of fellow he was.  He came at last to the conclusion that, after a week or two she would be “sick to death of it,” and longing to get away, but then “her pride would keep her at it.  She’d got a devil of a lot of pride.”  He waited, then, for a while, and hoped, I suppose, that some of Vera’s appeals would succeed.  They did not; and then it struck him that Vera was the very last person to whom Nina would yield—­just because she wanted to yield to her most, which was pretty subtle of him and very near the truth.