“I see. Don’t mind my asking, do you — but why didn’t you go too?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Simon, slowly. “I’m — er — getting married.”
Richard smiled. “Do I congratulate the happy man?”
Simon laughed his jerky little laugh. “Well, I never thought I would get married, somehow, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Splendid, old boy, you know how glad I am for you if everything’s really all right. When are you bringing your bride back to England?”
“Well — er — as a matter of fact, I’m not coming back to England, you see it’s this way — Valeria Petrovna takes the New Russia very seriously. She simply wouldn’t hear of coming to England — talked about her art — that it belonged to the Russian people. Besides, she really believes that the communists are going to make a better world for everybody, and that Russia’s the one place to live. “I’ll tell you — I think there’s a lot in what she says.”
“Simon, you’re talking rot, and you know it. But seriously, are you really prepared to give up everything and live in a pigsty like this?”
Simon drew his thin hand over his long receding forehead. “No,” he confessed, “I hate it, but as she wouldn’t come to England what else could I do?”
Richard stood up. “Do you really love this woman very much, Simon?”
“Yes.” Simon nodded, gravely. “I do, never thought I’d meet anyone like her.”