hat she wrote, the eagerness with which she
ravished the post, her fruitless visits to Grogoff's flat, her dejected
misery over her failure. He began himself to form plans, not, I am
convinced, from any especial affection for Nina, but simply because he
had the soul of a knight, although, thank God, he didn't know it. I
expect, too, that he was pretty dissatisfied with his knight-errantries.
His impassioned devotion to Vera had led to nothing at all, his
enthusiasm for Russia had led to a most unsatisfactory Revolution, and
his fatherly protection of Markovitch had inspired apparently nothing
more fruitful than distrust. I would like to emphasise that it was in no
way from any desire to interfere in other people's affairs that young
Bohun undertook these Quests. He had none of my own meddlesome quality.
He had, I think, very little curiosity and no psychological
self-satisfaction, but he had a kind heart, an adventurous spirit, and a
hatred for the wrong and injustice which seemed just now to be creeping
about the world; but all this, again thank God, was entirely
subconscious. He knew nothing whatever about himself.

The thought of Nina worried him more and more. After he went to bed at
night, he would hear her laugh and see her mocking smile and listen to
her shrill imitations of his own absurdities. She had been the one happy
person amongst them all, and now--! Well, he had seen enough of Boris
Grogoff to know what sort of fellow he was. He came at last to the
conclusion that, after a week or two she would be "sick to death of it,"
and longing to get away, but then "her pride would keep her at it. She'd
got a devil of a lot of pride." He waited, then, for a while, and hoped,
I suppose, that some of Vera's appeals would succeed. They did not; and
then it struck him that Vera was the very last person to whom Nina would
yield--just because she wanted to yield to her most, which was pretty
subtle of him and very near the truth.

No one else seemed to be making any very active efforts, and at last he
decided that he must do something himself. He discovered Grogoff's
address, went to the Gagarinskaya and looked up at the flat, hung about
a bit in the hope of seeing Nina. Then he did see her at Rozanov's
party, and this, although he said nothing to me about it at the time,
had a tremendous effect on him. He thought she looked "awful." All the
joy had gone from her; she was years older, miserable, and defiant. He
didn't spe