Haldin sitting in her usual place by
the window.
At first one would have thought that nothing was changed. I saw
across the room the familiar profile, a little sharper in outline
and overspread by a uniform pallor as might have been expected in an
invalid. But no disease could have accounted for the change in her black
eyes, smiling no longer with gentle irony. She raised them as she gave
me her hand. I observed the three weeks' old number of the _Standard_
folded with the correspondence from Russia uppermost, lying on a little
table by the side of the armchair. Mrs. Haldin's voice was startlingly
weak and colourless. Her first words to me framed a question.
"Has there been anything more in papers?"
I released her long emaciated hand, shook my head negatively, and sat
down.
"The English press is wonderful. Nothing can be kept secret from it,
and all the world must hear. Only our Russian news is not always easy to
understand. Not always easy.... But English mothers do not look for
news like that...."
She laid her hand on the newspaper and took it away again. I said--
"We too have had tragic times in our history."
"A long time ago. A very long time ago."
"Yes."
"There are nations that have made their bargain with fate," said Miss
Haldin, who had approached us.
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