‘How do you mean me to understand you?’ asked Ratmirov.
‘As you like.’
‘Hm. C’est clair.’ Ratmirov warily, like a cat, knocked off the ash of the cigarette with the tip of the long nail of his little finger. ‘Oh, by the way! This new friend of yours—what the dickens is his name?—Mr. Litvinov—doubtless enjoys the reputation of a very clever man.’
At the name of Litvinov, Irina turned quickly round.
‘What do you mean to say?’
The general smiled.
‘He keeps very quiet ... one can see he’s afraid of compromising himself.’
Irina too smiled; it was a very different smile from her husband’s.
‘Better keep quiet than talk ... as some people talk.’