‘She’s a worthy woman. She’s own aunt to the other, to your girl.’
‘Aunt?’
‘Why, didn’t you know?’
‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘Well ...’
Onisim was restrained by respect for his master from giving full expression to his feelings.
‘That’s whom it is you should make friends with.’
‘Well, I’ve no objection.’
Onisim looked approvingly at Ivan Afanasiitch.
‘But with what object precisely am I to make friends with her?’ inquired Pyetushkov.