heatre.

Towards the end of the last interval I went out into the passage behind
the stalls to escape from the chastened whispering that went trembling
up and down like the hissing of terrified snakes. I leaned against the
wall in the deserted passage and watched the melancholy figure of the
cloak-room attendant huddled up on a chair, his head between his hands.

Suddenly I saw Vera. She came up to me as though she were going to walk
past me, and then she stopped and spoke. She talked fast, not looking at
me, but beyond, down the passage.

"I'm sorry, Ivan Andreievitch," she said. "I was cross the other day. I
hurt you. I oughtn't to have done that."

"You know," I said, "that I never thought of it for a minute."

"No, I was wrong. But I've been terribly worried during these last
weeks. I've thought it all out to-day and I've decided--" there was a
catch in her breath and she paused; she went on--"decided that there
mustn't be any more weakness. I'm much weaker than I thought. I would be
ashamed if I didn't think that shame was a silly thing to have. But now
I am quite clear; I must make Nicholas and Nina happy. Whatever else
comes I must do that. It has been terrible, these last weeks. We've all
been angry and miserable, and now I must put it right. I can if I try.
I've been forgetting that I chose my own life myself, and now I mustn't
be cowardly because it's difficult. I will make it right myself...."

She paused again, then she said, looking me straight in the face,

"Ivan Andreievitch, does Nina care for Mr. Lawrence?"

She was looking at me, with large black eyes so simply, with such trust
in me, that I could only tell her the truth.

"Yes," I said, "she does."

Her eyes fell, then she looked up at me again.

"I thought so," she said. "And does he care for her?"

"No," I said, "he does not."

"He must," she said. "It would be a very happy thing for them to marry."

She spoke very low, so that I could scarcely hear her words.

"Wait, Vera," I said. "Let it alone. Nina's very young. The mood will
pass. Lawrence, perhaps, will go back to England."

She drew in her breath and I saw her hand tremble, but she still looked
at me, only now her eyes were not so clear. Then she laughed. "I'm
getting an old woman, Ivan Andreievitch. It's ridiculous...." She broke
off. Then held out her hand.

"But we'll always be friends now, won't we? I'll never be cross with you
again."

I took her hand. "I'm getting o