“Yes,” I said. “And the next point?”
“The next point is that Vera loves me. No need to go into that—but she does.”
“Yes, she does,” I said.
“Third point, she’s married, and although she don’t love her man she’s sorry for him. Fourth point, he loves her. Fifth point, there’s a damned swine hangin’ round called Alexei Petrovitch Semyonov.... Well, then, there you have it.”
He considered, scratching his head. I waited. Then he went on:
“Now it would be simpler if she didn’t want to be kind to Nicholas, if Nicholas didn’t love her, if—a thousand things were different. But they must be as they are, I suppose. I’ve just been with her. She’s nearly out of her mind with worry.”
He paused, puffing furiously at his pipe. Then he went on:
“She’s worrying about me, about Nina, and about Nicholas. And especially about Nicholas. There’s something wrong with him. He knows about my kissing her in the flat. Well, that’s all right. I meant him to know. Everything’s just got to be above-board. But Semyonov knows too, and that devil’s been raggin’ him about it, and Nicholas is just like a bloomin’ kid. That’s got to stop. I’ll wring that feller’s neck. But even that wouldn’t help matters much. Vera says Nicholas is not to be hurt whatever happens. ‘Never mind us,’ she says, ‘we’re strong and can stand it.’ But he can’t. He’s weak. And she says he’s just goin’ off his dot. And it’s got to be stopped—it’s just got to be stopped. There’s only one way to stop it.”
He stayed: suddenly he put his heavy hand on my knee.
“What do you mean?” I asked.