Alexander Alexandrovitch caught her in his arms, placed her on his knees—his beloved, his only little daughter.
"Well, little Asya, what have you been doing?" he asked.
"When you went out to Olya Golovkina Mummy and I played tig."
The next morning, when Olya came into the office for business as usual, she exclaimed joyfully:
"My aunt has not found out anything. She opened the door for me without lighting the lamp, and as she groped through the passage I ran quickly past her. Then I changed my clothes and appeared at supper as though nothing had happened!"
A willow-reed blown by the wind!
In the office were many telephone calls and the rattling of counting- boards. Agrenev and Olya sat together and arranged when to meet again. She did not want to go to the Ravine because of the shepherd boys' rude remarks. Alexander Alexandrovitch did not tell her all was known at home. As she said goodby she clung to him like a reed in the wind and whispered:
"I have been awake all night. You have noticed surely that I have not called you by any name; I have no name for you."
And she begged him not to forget to bring her some books.
All that was known of the town was that it lay at the intersection of such and such a latitude and longitude. But articles on the factory were printed each year in the industrial magazines, and also occasionally in the newspapers, as when the workmen struck or were buried under a fall of limestone. The factory was run by a limited company. Alexander Alexandrovitch Agrenev made out the returns for his department; these were duly printed—not to be read, but so that beneath them might appear the signature: "A. A. Agrenev, Engineer." Olya only kept a report-book and the name-rolls, placing in her reports so many marks opposite the pupil's names.