“And our women have all gone to wash,” said the Vladimir woman. “I heard them say much has been given in alms to-day. Quite a lot has been brought.”
“Finashka,” called out the watchman’s wife, “where’s the little imp gone to?”
She took a knitting needle, stuck it through both the ball and the stocking, and went out into the corridor.
At this moment the sound of women’s voices was heard from the corridor, and the inmates of the cell entered, with their prison shoes, but no stockings on their feet. Each was carrying a roll, some even two. Theodosia came at once up to Maslova.
“What’s the matter; is anything wrong?” Theodosia asked, looking lovingly at Maslova with her clear, blue eyes. “This is for our tea,” and she put the rolls on a shelf.
“Why, surely he has not changed his mind about marrying?” asked Korableva.
“No, he has not, but I don’t wish to,” said Maslova, “and so I told him.”
“More fool you!” muttered Korableva in her deep tones.
“If one’s not to live together, what’s the use of marrying?” said Theodosia.
“There’s your husband—he’s going with you,” said the watchman’s wife.