er at the other end of the room, her brother-in-law was cutting up
little pieces of wood in his workshop, and Vera was in the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" she said in a whisper. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do," he answered, smiling at her. "You know, Nina, you're in
love with the Englishman, and have been for a long time. Well, why not?
Don't be so frightened about it. It is quite time that you should be in
love with some one, and he's a fine strong young man--not over-blessed
with brains, but you can supply that part of it. No, I think it's a very
good match. I like it. Believe me, I'm your friend, Nina." He put his
hand on hers.

He looked so kind, she told me afterwards, that she felt as though she
had never known him before; her eyes were filled with tears, so
overwhelming a relief was it to find some one at last who sympathised
and understood and wanted her to succeed. I remember that she was
wearing that day a thin black velvet necklet with a very small diamond
in front of it. She had been given it by Uncle Ivan on her last
birthday, and instead of making her look grown-up it gave her a
ridiculously childish appearance as though she had stolen into Vera's
bedroom and dressed up in her things. Then, with her fair tousled hair
and large blue eyes, open as a rule with a startled expression as though
she had only just awakened into an astonishingly exciting world, she was
altogether as unprotected and as guileless and as honest as any human
being alive. I don't know whether Semyonov felt her innocence and
youth--I expect he considered very little beside the plans that he had
then in view.... and innocence had never been very interesting to him.
He spoke to her just as a kind, wise, thoughtful uncle ought to speak to
a niece caught up into her first love-affair. From the moment of that
half-hour's conversation in the window Nina adored him, and believed
every word that came from his mouth.

"You see, Nina dear," he went on, "I've not spoken to you before because
you neither liked me nor trusted me. Quite rightly you listened to what
others said about me--"

"Oh no," interrupted Nina. "I never listen to anybody."

"Well then," said Semyonov, "we'll say that you were very naturally
influenced by them. And quite right--perfectly right. You were only a
girl then--you are a woman now. I had nothing to say to you then--now I
can help you, give you a little advice perhaps--"

I don't know what Nina replied. She w