“That does not matter,” she said.
He looked at his watch and said that he would be going in an hour. After giving orders to have his horses taken out of the stable and brought into the yard, he picked up his silver-handled whip and with his cloak on his arm followed Vera into the avenue. “I will not beat about the bush,” he said. “What is the matter with you to-day? You have something on your mind.”
She wrapped her face in her mantilla as she spoke, and her shoulders shivered as if with cold. She dare not raise her eyes to him as he strode silently beside her.
“But you are ill, Vera Vassilievna. I had better talk to you another time. You were not wrong in thinking I had something to say to you.”
“No, Ivan Ivanovich, let it be to-day. I want to know what you have to say to me. I myself wanted to talk to you, but perhaps it is too late for what I have to say. Do you speak,” she said, wondering painfully how and where he could have learnt her secret.
“I came here to-day....” he said as they sat down on the bench.
“What have you to say to me? Speak!” she interrupted.
“How can I say it to you now, Vera Vassilievna?” said Tushin springing to his feet.
“Do not make me suffer,” she murmured.
“I love you....”