om us. They laughed at the idea of not going
to the theatre. The tickets had been bought two weeks ago, and the walk
would be pleasant. Of course we would go. It would be fun, too, to see
whether anything were happening.

With how strange a clarity I remember the events of that evening. It is
detached and hangs by itself among the other events of that amazing
time, as though it had been framed and separated for some especial
purpose. My impression of the colour of it now is of a scene intensely
quiet.

I saw at once on my arrival that Vera was not yet prepared to receive me
back into her friendship. And I saw, too, that she included Lawrence in
this ostracism. She sat there, stiff and cold, smiling and talking
simply because she was compelled, for politeness sake, to do so. She
would scarcely speak to me at all, and when I saw this I turned and
devoted myself to Uncle Ivan, who was always delighted to make me a
testing-ground for his English.

But poor Jerry! Had I not been so anxious lest a scene should burst upon
us all I could have laughed at the humour of it. Vera's attitude was a
complete surprise to him. He had not seen her during the preceding week,
and that absence from her had heightened his desire until it burnt his
very throat with its flame. One glance from her, when he came in, would
have contented him. He could have rested then, happily, quietly; but
instead of that glance she had avoided his eye, her hand was cold and
touched his only for an instant. She had not spoken to him again after
the first greeting. I am sure that he had never known a time when his
feelings threatened to be too much for him. His hold on himself and his
emotions had been complete. "These fellers," he once said to me about
some Russians, "are always letting their feelings overwhelm them--like
women. And they like it. Funny thing!" Well, funny or no, he realised it
now; his true education, like Nina's, like Vera's, like Bohun's, like
Markovitch's, perhaps like my own, was only now beginning. Funny and
pathetic, too, to watch his broad, red, genial face struggling to
express a polite interest in the conversation, to show nothing but
friendliness and courtesy. His eyes were as restless as minnows; they
darted for an instant towards Vera, then darted off again, then flashed
back. His hand moved for a plate, and I saw that it was shaking. Poor
Jerry! He had learnt what suffering was during those last weeks. But the
most silent of us a