She took up her scissors and began cutting them out.
“No; tell me, what was it?” he said, sitting down beside her and watching the tiny scissors moving round.
“Oh! what was I thinking about? I was thinking about Moscow, about the back of your head.”
“Why should I, of all people, have such happiness! It’s unnatural, too good,” he said, kissing her hand.
“I feel quite the opposite; the better things are, the more natural it seems to me.”
“And you’ve got a little curl loose,” he said, carefully turning her head round.
“A little curl, oh yes. No, no, we are busy at our work!”
Work did not progress further, and they darted apart from one another like culprits when Kouzma came in to announce that tea was ready.
“Have they come from the town?” Levin asked Kouzma.
“They’ve just come; they’re unpacking the things.”