GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Lyubóv, where are you going?
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. To mother!
GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Wait! She'll come here.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA sits down.
KÓRSHUNOV. You don't want to sit by the old man? Give me your hand, young lady; I will kiss it.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Gives her hand] Oh, good heavens!
KÓRSHUNOV. What a hand! He, he, he! Like velvet! [Strokes her hand, and then puts on a diamond ring.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Freeing her hand] Oh, let me go! I don't want it; I don't want it!
KÓRSHUNOV. That's all right; it's no loss to me—it won't ruin me.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. But I don't want it. Give it to whomever you like. [Takes it off and returns it.