Sasha looked at her with his soft, dark eyes—they suddenly became moist—and he said quietly:
"I like to caress."
"Well, you are a nice boy," said Liudmilla, putting her arm on his shoulder. "So you like to caress? But do you like to splash[2] in your bath?"
Sasha smiled. Liudmilla went on:
"In warm water?"
"Yes, in warm and in cold," said the boy shamefacedly.
"And what sort of soap do you like?"
"Glycerine."
"And do you like grapes?"
Sasha began to laugh.