He stepped forward, blinded by the quivering gold, and walked into the
arms of Marie Ivanovna. He, quite literally, ran against her and put
his arms about her for a moment to steady her, not seeing who she was.
Then he gave a little cry.
She was also frightened. "It was the only time," he told me, "that I
had ever seen her show fear."
They were silent, neither of them knowing the way to speak.
Then she said: "John, don't r-run away. It is very good. I wanted to
speak to you. Here, sit down here."
She herself sat down and patted the grass, inviting him. He at once
sat down beside her, but he could say nothing--nothing at all.
She waited for a time and then, seeing him, I suppose, at a loss and
helpless, regained her own courage. "Are you still angry with me?"
"No," he answered, not looking at her.
"You have a right to be; I behaved very badly."
"I don't understand," he replied, "why you thought in Petrograd that
you loved me and then--so soon--found that you did not--so soon.
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