О. Н. Прокофьева

It was impossible to take a walk that day

There were three of us in the smoke-room of the ship – me, my very good friend, and, in the opposite corner, a shy man, the editor, as we knew out later, of a New York Sunday paper.

Not to swear is as easy as to swear, if you make a custom of it. A

"Друзья всегда забывают тех, кто несчастен"

refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs and return to the