‘I will see you home then.’
‘But why have you come without a cap on?’
‘That doesn’t matter. I took off my neckerchief too. It is quite warm.’
The friends walked a few paces.
‘I was very stupid to-day, wasn’t I?’ Shubin asked suddenly.
‘To speak frankly, you were. I couldn’t make you out. I have never seen you like that before. And what were you angry about really? Such trifles!’
‘H’m,’ muttered Shubin. ‘That’s how you put it; but they were not trifles to me. You see,’ he went on, ‘I ought to point out to you that I—that—you may think what you please of me—I—well there! I’m in love with Elena.’
‘You in love with Elena!’ repeated Bersenyev, standing still.
‘Yes,’ pursued Shubin with affected carelessness. ‘Does that astonish you? I will tell you something else. Till this evening I still had hopes that she might come to love me in time. But to-day I have seen for certain that there is no hope for me. She is in love with some one else.’
‘Some one else? Whom?’