to your story of Petrograd," I said, very interested.
"Well, we lived happily in our little house, selling first one thing and then another for food. One night, a gang of men forced their way in, showed Soviet passports, and took a great many of our valuable things. We were glad our lives were spared. Three times this thing happened, and we had very little left. One night, when my brother was with us, there came another intruder in the name of the Government. He tried to kill my brother. I shot him in the legs. He crawled to my feet and begged for his life. My brother and I left to hide. We were in hiding four months. The man I shot in the legs really was a Commissar. All the others were thieves with forged warrants. My wife was tormented every day to make her tell where I was. She did not know. She nearly died of suffering. And the little baby came." He looked dreamily away.
"If she had stayed in Petrograd for the coming winter she would have died. It was the only way."
"She shall come to me in England if she needs a home," I said. And with this promise, that any human being would have given, he was greatly comforted.
