“All right, with four we’ll chance it,” shouted Richard. “Take the seat, Rex, you’re heaviest. The Duke must manage, somehow, on your knees.”
“Please — please,” Simon was urging Valeria Petrovna.
“No... no... that I cannot do.”
“Why not?”
“I would ’ate it in your capitalist country.”
“Come on, Simon,” cried the Duke.
He took no notice. “Have you ever thought how I might hate it here?”
“That is different. I do not belong to myself. My art belong to the ’ole Russian people; after they ’ave seen me act they ’ave new strength for the work they ’ave to do.”
“Simon!” pleaded De Richleau.
Still he took no notice. “Work!” he said, angrily. “Destroying all freedom, you mean, and preventing anybody having a chance to get on in the world.”