“He does not think of returning.”
Pan Stanislav took out his note-book, wrote some words with a pencil, and, giving them to Marynia, said,—
“Read, and tell me if that is good.”
“If thou write in my presence, I withdraw,” said Bukatski.
“No, no! this is no secret.”
Marynia became as red as a cherry from delight, and, as if not wishing to believe her eyes, asked,—
“Is that true? It is not.”
“That depends on you,” answered Pan Stanislav.
“Ah, Pan Stas! I did not even dream of that. I must tell papa. I must.”
And she ran out of the room.