“Why, why do you do this, Jennie?” asked Gladishev with anguish. “Well, what’s that for? ...Is it possible that you want to tell about it? ...”
“Wait awhile, that’s not your business...Wait a while, I won’t do anything unpleasant for you.”
After a minute Little White Manka came in her brown, smooth, deliberately modest dress of a high school girl.
“What did you call me for, Jennie? Or have you quarreled?”
“No, we haven’t quarreled, Mannechka, but my head aches very much,” answered Jennka calmly, “and for that reason my little friend finds me very cold. Be a friend, Mannechka, stay with him, take my place!”
“That’s enough, Jennie, stop it, darling!” in a tone of sincere suffering retorted Kolya. “I understand everything, everything, it’s not necessary now ... Don’t be finishing me off, then! ...”
“I don’t understand anything of what’s happened,” the frivolous Manka spread out her hands. “Maybe you’ll treat a poor little girl to something?”
“Well, go on, go on!” Jennka sent her away gently. “I’ll come right away. We just played a joke.”
Already dressed, they stood for long in the open door between the bedroom and the corridor; and without words sadly looked at each other. And Kolya did not understand, but sensed, that at this moment in his soul was taking place one of those tremendous crises which tell imperiously upon the entire life.
Then he pressed Jennie’s hand hard and said: