r own
silly imagination--Lawrence cared for her. Her uncle had seen it,
otherwise he would never have encouraged her--Lawrence cared for her....

Suddenly, in the happy spontaneity of the moment she did what she very
seldom did, bent forward and kissed him.

She told me afterwards that that kiss seemed to displease him.

He got up and walked away.

VII

I do not know exactly what occurred during that afternoon. Neither
Lawrence nor Nina spoke about it to me. I only know that Nina returned
subdued and restrained. I can imagine them going out into that quiet
town and walking along the deserted quay; the quiet that afternoon was,
I remember, marvellous. The whole world was holding its breath. Great
events were occurring, but we were removed from them all. The ice
quivered under the sun and the snowclouds rose higher and higher into
the blue, and once and again a bell chimed and jangled.... There was an
amazing peace. Through this peaceful world Nina and Lawrence walked. His
mind must, I know, have been very far away from Nina, probably he saw
nothing of her little attempts at friendship; her gasping sentences
that seemed to her so daring and significant he scarcely heard. His only
concern was to endure the walk as politely as possible and return to
Vera.

Perhaps if she had not had that conversation with her uncle she would
have realised more clearly how slight a response was made to her, but
she thought only that this was his English shyness and gaucherie--she
must go slowly and carefully. He was not like a Russian. She must not
frighten him. Ah, how she loved him as she walked beside him, seeing and
not seeing the lovely frozen colours of the winter day, the quickly
flooding saffron sky! The first bright star, the great pearl-grey cloud
of the Neva as it was swept into the dark. In the dark she put, I am
sure, her hand on his arm, and felt his strength and took her small
hurried steps beside his long ones. He did not, I expect, feel her hand
on his sleeve at all. It was Vera whom he saw through the dusk. Vera
watching the door for his return, knowing that his eyes would rush to
hers, that every beat of his heart was for her....

I found them all seated at dinner when I entered. I brought them the
news of the shooting up at the Nicholas Station.

"Perhaps, we had better not go to the theatre," I said. "A number of
people were killed this afternoon, and all the trams are stopped."

Still it was all remote fr