"Oh, that's all right; you can become a Czecho-Slovak. I can give you
a letter; you need only stay there half-an-hour when you're passing
through."
I felt my cherished Russian nationality slipping away and my only
safety seemed to lie in an instant departure. I caught her hand
and kissed her polished finger-tips. She bent forward and kissed my
forehead.
"Good journey," she said.
"A happy time at home," I answered, and, saluting her husband, I
hurried to the door.
"I'm glad there's a little bit of Russian left in you," she called
after me. "And by the way you might bring two boxes of the soap; it
doesn't last long."
* * * * *