“He never thinks.  He fancies.”

She laughed.  “Yes, you are jealous.  It is silly of you, but agreeable.  I did not know you could be.”

“Now, let’s be serious.  You can’t stay here.  I must insist on your going away,—­dear, for your own sake,—­for our sake!  I promise it won’t be for a long time,—­perhaps it will only seem so, if you love me!  Don’t say no.  Can’t you picture how happy we can be afterwards?  How somewhere away from here we could marry, and....  You must go away.  Why not go to England, or Japan, or Sweden?  Just a trip?”

“How funny you talk!” I said.  “Listen to my reasons.  One:  I must stay near you.  Two:  I must see the end of this tragedy.  Three:  I must close my bit of an account with some people.  Four:  All I have is not enough to pay for this room,—­so no trips for me.  Five:  ...”

“Stop!  Stop!” she exclaimed, and crawling into my lap, continued: 

“My poor boy!  That—­is killing!  I know why you are so poor!  You spent every penny on others!  You had some earnings!  And to think of all you were bringing to me in Tumen ... then you did not care even, but just to be hospitable to an intruder....  And other things....  How can I repay you!...”

“There are no reasons for crying on this account.  Forget it please.  Don’t put me in the light of a benefactor,—­I hate it.”

“No, no!  I feel so guilty now.  I’ll give you money.”

“Don’t offend me.  All I want is not to be an idiot in the future and not to lose you.  So I have said it,—­and it is said.  When it comes to stubbornness—­I hardly think anybody could beat me.  So just understand:  I am going to stay where you are, and if you try this time to get away, I’ll have to take measures.  I’ll kidnap you.  I’ll put you in a place where no ‘Navy-Cut’ is smoked.  Now—­it is serious.  Understand?”

We talked, and argued, and even quarrelled, and again made peace, until she declared herself beaten.  Maybe she was angry; perhaps scared; but surely greatly flattered.  A woman is a woman—­always flattered when she sees persistence.  She consented to take me into her game.  I had to swear, and cross my heart, and give endless words of honor,—­all that for a position of a traffic man, like the one in Tumen.  I had to swear that no cooks, or maids, or ladies (especially ladies!) would distract me from the thought of her.  Very selfish, but understandable.  It was late, when she left me.

“Alex,” she said on the threshold,—­“Please don’t talk.  Do not write, please!  You’ll have time to finish your diary, and write even a series of books on the subject afterwards.  Maybe I’ll help you even.  Close your diary.  Give it to me, I’ll hide it!...”

“Is that so?” I said,—­“there is nothing now that would be of interest to you.”

“Everything interests me, dear.  Aren’t you mean to your Lucie?...  Very well, hide it yourself, burn it, if you can’t hide it.  Can’t you keep in your mind your impressions?  Do you promise?  Consider me too!”