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I am telling you, no one will be in the Provisional Government offices at this hour! That pathetic bourgeois-landlord crew will have stopped working at dusk and gone to their cozy, warm homes without giving a damn about the workers, soldiers and peasants, about the continuation of the war, about the hunger and death -
So Kerensky's window remains lit. What of it? It is probably the cleaning woman sweeping up the dregs of his day's crimes against the people, forced to work for what swine like him spend on a week's cigar supply.
Yes, I am angry and you would be as well if you had enough empathy to see beyond your petty quarrel with that example of unwarranted English superiority, Carr. Why do you not put away this ridiculous court case, that foolish book that no one will ever understand let alone choose as the greatest novel of this century? Join the revolution, Comrade - we need artists as well as peasants.
But here is Kerensky's office - there, you see? No one is inside. Here, I will open the door to show you. Ah, chilly in here - the window is open, the furniture overturned, the papers scattered. You see how he leaves this disorder to be cleaned by those he considers his underlings?
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