“It is.” Something moved over his face, so fleeting she barely caught it. Something a bit sad, a bit angry, a bit resigned. “My people—at least the ones in control now—are trying to make us forget this. There are groups of women saying it is time to liberate them from the confines of family and children. They wish to make child-rearing a matter for the state instead of the family. To abolish marriage. To outlaw elements of faith. They say these are archaic.”

They paused to wait for a rattletrap motorcar to clatter by, which gave her time enough to find the words for the reaction that had gripped her stomach. “Isn’t that a bit like saying we don’t need stone anymore, now that we have concrete and steel, and so let’s dig out the bedrock? New structures are all well and good, but we must take care not to destroy our very foundations.”

“Exactly so.” For the first time, a bit of fervor entered his voice. “This is what I have tried to say to my people. That yes, it is important women have chance to chase dreams. It is important peasants in villages do not starve. But care must be taken not to throw out good with bad.” He paused, sucked in a breath. “Apologies. I have forgotten my articles in my excitement.”

She chuckled. “I knew perfectly well what you meant. And I do agree.”

The glance he sent her said he appreciated that. But then it sobered. “My reward for such talk in Moscow, and for the work I did for my country during the war, was to be hunted. Flee or die—these were the options the Bolsheviks left me.”

He said Bolsheviks like it was a curse word. She wanted to reach over, to touch his arm, but she didn’t know if he’d appreciate such a gesture. So she settled for a small smile. “I’m glad you chose the option you did, Mr. Marin.”

He faced forward again. Seeing, she suspected, something far beyond the row of houses so familiar to her. “Many will think I chose the coward’s way. That I have abandoned my post, my country. That I have defected.”

“And being killed for your beliefs would have been better?” She shook her head and then lifted a hand to smooth back a strand of hair the wind tossed into her eyes. “I can’t think so. Denying who you are for the sake of safety would have been cowardly. And dying for it would have been a bigger abandonment, don’t you think? Now you live to fight another day. To pray for those you’ve left behind. For Russia. To do what you can for them from here.”