‘They are both well.’
‘And living at Moscow as before?’
‘At Moscow as before.’
‘And your brothers and sisters?’
‘They are all right; I have provided for all of them.’
‘Ah!’ Litvinov glanced up from under his brows at Irina. ‘In reality, Irina Pavlovna, it’s not I who ought to tell my story, but you, if only——’ He suddenly felt embarrassed and stopped.
Irina raised her hands to her face and turned her wedding-ring round upon her finger.
‘Well? I will not refuse,’ she assented at last. ‘Some day ... perhaps.... But first you ... because, do you see, though I tried to follow you up, I know scarcely anything of you; while of me ... well, of me you have heard enough certainly. Haven’t you? I suppose you have heard of me, tell me?’
‘You, Irina Pavlovna, occupied too conspicuous a place in the world, not to be the subject of talk ... especially in the provinces, where I have been and where every rumour is believed.’