I myself for the
matter of that ..." and then he nervously broke off.
But with all this they did not seem to quarrel with one another. It is
true that I discovered a kind of impatience, especially between Andrey
Vassilievitch and Nikitin, the kind of restlessness that you see
sometimes between two horses which are harnessed together. Semyonov
(he paid no attention to me at all during my visit) treated Trenchard
quite decently, and I observed on several occasions his look of
puzzled curiosity at the man--a look to which I have alluded before.
He spoke to him always in the tone of contemptuous banter that he had
from the beginning used to him: "Well, Mr., I suppose that you
couldn't bring a big enough bandage however much you were asked to.
But why choose the smallest possible...."
Or, "That's where Mr. writes his poetry--being a nice romantic
Englishman. Isn't it, Mr.?"
But I was greatly struck by Trenchard's manner of taking these
remarks. He behaved now as though he had secret reasons for knowing
that he was in every way as good a man as Semyonov--a better one,
maybe.
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