“Until lately she always told me everything.  Now she tells me nothing.  She’s strange with me; angry for nothing.  Then sorry and sweet again—­then suddenly angry....  She’s excited and wild, going out all the time, but unhappy too....  I know she’s unhappy.  I can feel it as though it were myself.”

“You’re imagining things,” I said.  “Now when the war’s reached this period we’re all nervous and overstrung.  The atmosphere of this town is enough to make any one fancy that they see anything.  Nina’s all right.”

“I’m losing her!  I’m losing her!” Vera cried, suddenly stretching out her hand as though in a gesture of appeal.  “She must stay with me.  I don’t know what’s happening to her.  Ah, and I’m so lonely without her!”

There was silence between us for a little, and then she went on.

“Durdles, I did wrong to marry Nicholas—­wrong to Nina, wrong to Nicholas, wrong to myself, I thought it was right.  I didn’t love Nicholas—­I never loved him and I never pretended to.  He knew that I did not.  But I thought then that I was above love, that knowledge was what mattered.  Ideas—­saving the world—­and he had such ideas!  Wonderful!  There was, I thought, nothing that he would not be able to do if only he were helped enough.  He wanted help in every way.  He was such a child, so unhappy, so lonely, I thought that I could give him everything that he needed.  Don’t fancy that I thought that I sacrificed myself.  I felt that I was the luckiest girl in all the world—­and still, now when I see that he is not strong enough for his ideas I care for him as I did then, and I would never let any trouble touch him if I could help it.  But if—­if—­”

She paused, turned away from me, looking towards the window.

“If, after all, I was wrong.  If, after all, I was meant to love.  If love were to come now... real love... now....”

She broke off, suddenly stood up, and very low, almost whispering, said: 

“I have fancied lately that it might come.  And then, what should I do?  Oh, what should I do?  With Nicholas and Nina and all the trouble there is now in the world—­and Russia—­I’m afraid of myself—­and ashamed....”

I could not speak.  I was utterly astonished.  Could it be Bohun of whom she was speaking?  No, I saw at once that the idea was ludicrous.  But if not—.

I took her hand.

“Vera,” I said.  “Believe me.  I’m much older than you, and I know.  Love’s always selfish, always cruel to others, always means trouble, sorrow, and disappointment.  But it’s worth it, even when it brings complete disaster.  Life isn’t life without it.”

I felt her hand tremble in mine.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I know nothing of it, except my love for Nina.  It isn’t that now there’s anybody.  Don’t think that.  There is no one—­no one.  Only my self-confidence is gone.  I can’t see clearly any more.  My duty is to Nina and Nicholas.  And if they are happy nothing else matters—­nothing.  And I’m afraid that I’m going to do them harm.”