"The tobacco's damp," he explained to us a hundred times.

"It's better damp...." Then, quite suddenly, the blow fell.
One evening, as they were standing alone together in the yard watching the yellow sky die into dusk, without any preparation, she spoke to him.
"John," she said, "I can't marry you." He heard her as though she had spoken to another man.

It was as though he said: "Ah, that will be bad news for so-and-so." "I don't understand," he said, and instantly afterwards his heart began to beat like a raging beast and his knees trembled.
"I can't marry you," she told him, "because I don't love you.

Ah, I've known it a long time--ever since we left Petrograd.

I've often, often wanted to tell you ...