"Most of all of Russia," he said.
"I want to tell you one thing," he went on. "After our meeting the other day I have been thinking you might think wrong. You are what we call in Russia very chutki, with a very keen scent in impressions. I want you not to misjudge. You may be thinking the obstacle has come back. It hasn't. I am free as air, as empty air. That is what I have been wanting to tell you. If you are understanding, well and good. If you are not understanding, I can tell you no more. I have enjoyed our acquaintance. We have not been knowing each other much, yet I know you very well now. I want to thank you and go."
I asked him if he would like letters. I said I wrote letters on a typewriter.
He said he would. I told him he could write to me if he didn't mind letters being read out. My sister generally read my letters to me. She stayed with me whenever she could at Cadenabbia. But now she was busy.
He said he would write. He didn't mind who read his letters. I told him I lived all the year in Italy, and very seldom saw anyone, so that I should have little news to send him. "Tell me what you are thinking," he said. "That is all the news I want."
I asked if there was anything else I could do for him. He said, "Yes, send me any books that Mr. Rudd writes. They would interest me."
I promised him I would do this. Then he said "Good-bye." He went away by the seven o'clock train.
That evening I saw no one. The next morning I learnt that Canning had gone too.
Rudd came up to my rooms to see me, but I told Henry I was not well and he did not let him come in.
The next morning I talked to Princess Kouragine at the door of the hotel. She was just leaving. I asked after Miss Brandon.