‘And what do you like in women?’ she asked, throwing back her head with innocent curiosity.
‘What a strange question!’ I cried.
Acia was a little disconcerted.
‘I ought not to ask you such a question, ought I? Forgive me, I’m used to chattering away about anything that comes into my head. That’s why I’m afraid to speak.’
‘Speak, for God’s sake, don’t be afraid,’ I hastened to intervene; ‘I’m so glad you’re leaving off being shy at last.’
Acia looked down, and laughed a soft light-hearted laugh; I had never heard such a laugh from her.
‘Well, tell me about something,’ she went on, stroking out the skirt of her dress, and arranging the folds over her legs, as though she were settling herself for a long while; ‘tell me or read me something, just as you read us, do you remember, from Oniegin.…’
She suddenly grew pensive—
‘Where now is the cross and the branches’ shade