“Then I shall call you Tatiana Osipovna.”
“And I’ll call you Mariana Vikentievna. That will be splendid.”
“Won’t you take a cup of tea with us, Tatiana Osipovna?”
“For once I will, Mariana Vikentievna, although Egoritch will scold me afterwards.”
“Who is Egoritch?”
“Pavel, my husband.”
“Sit down, Tatiana Osipovna.”
“Thank you, Mariana Vikentievna.”
Tatiana sat down and began sipping her tea and nibbling pieces of sugar. She kept turning the lump of sugar round in her fingers, screwing up her eye on the side on which she bit it. Mariana entered into conversation with her and she replied quite at her ease, asked questions in her turn, and volunteered various pieces of information. She simply worshipped Solomin and put her husband only second to him. She did not, however, care for the factory life.
“It’s neither town nor country here. I wouldn’t stop an hour if it were not for Vassily Fedotitch!”