A sweet savour of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he was near enough to her to feel it.

And yet he told himself that he was bound to doubt.

He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where Nina was sitting.

What was he to do?
How should he carry himself in this special period of his life?
Great ideas about the destiny of his people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he should have been, and probably was, ashamed.

He would certainly take her away from Prague.