“If he does go away you and I’ll have to stay,” said Korableva, turning to Maslova, “but you’d better tell us now what the advocate says about petitioning. Now’s the time to hand it in.”
Maslova answered that she knew nothing about it.
At that moment the red-haired woman came up to the “aristocracy” with both freckled hands in her thick hair, scratching her head with her nails.
“I’ll tell you all about it, Katerina,” she began. “First and foremost, you’ll have to write down you’re dissatisfied with the sentence, then give notice to the Procureur.”
“What do you want here?” said Korableva angrily; “smell the vodka, do you? Your chatter’s not wanted. We know what to do without your advice.”
“No one’s speaking to you; what do you stick your nose in for?”
“It’s vodka you want; that’s why you come wriggling yourself in here.”
“Well, offer her some,” said Maslova, always ready to share anything she possessed with anybody.
“I’ll offer her something.”
“Come on then,” said the red-haired one, advancing towards Korableva. “Ah! think I’m afraid of such as you?”