ther," said Henry. "He's very decent to me. I had a walk with
him one afternoon. He said you were awfully brave at the Front."

"Thank him for nothing," I said.

"And he said you didn't like him--don't you?"

"Ah, that's too old a story," I answered. "We know what we feel about
one another."

"Well, Lawrence simply hates him," continued Bohun. "He says he's the
most thundering cad, and as bad as you make them. I don't see how he can
tell."

This interested me extremely. "When did he tell you this?" I asked.

"Yesterday. I asked him what he had to judge by and he said instinct. I
said he'd no right to go only by that."

"Has Lawrence been much to the Markovitches?"

"Yes--once or twice. He just sits there and never opens his mouth."

"Very wise of him if he hasn't got anything to say."

"No, but really--do you think so? It doesn't make him popular."

"Why, who doesn't like him?"

"Nobody," answered Henry ungrammatically. "None of the English anyway.
They can't stand him at the Embassy or the Mission. They say he's
fearfully stuck-up and thinks about nothing but himself.... I don't
agree, of course--all the same, he might make himself more agreeable to
people."

"What nonsense!" I answered hotly. "Lawrence is one of the best fellows
that ever breathed. The Markovitches don't dislike him, do they?"

"No, he's quite different with them. Vera Michailovna likes him I know."

It was the first time that he had mentioned her name to me. He turned
towards me now, his face crimson. "I say--that's really what I came to
talk about, Durward. I care for her madly!... I'd die for her. I would
really. I love her, Durward. I see now I've never loved anybody before."

"Well, what will you do about it?"

"Do about it?... Why nothing, of course. It's all perfectly hopeless.
In the first place, there's Markovitch."

"Yes. There's Markovitch," I agreed.

"She doesn't care for him--does she? You know that--" He waited, eagerly
staring into my face.

I had a temptation to laugh. He was so very young, so very helpless, and
yet--that sense of his youth had pathos in it too, and I suddenly liked
young Bohun--for the first time.

"Look here, Bohun," I said, trying to speak with a proper solemnity.
"Don't be a young ass. You know that it's hopeless, any feeling of that
kind. She _does_ care for her husband. She could never care for you in
that way, and you'd only make trouble for them all if you went on with
it.... On the o