“There is certainly some disturbance in T.,” he began, shaking his beard and screwing up his bright black eyes. “Sergai Mihailovitch must have had a hand in it. He hasn’t been home for five days.”
Nejdanov took his cap.
“Where are you off to?” Mariana asked.
“Why there of course,” he replied, not raising his eyes and frowning, “I am going to T.”
“Then I will come with you. You’ll take me, won’t you? Just let me get a shawl.”
“It’s not a woman’s work,” Nejdanov said irritably with his eyes still fixed on the floor.
“No, no! You do well to go, or Markelov would think you a coward ... but I’m coming with you.”
“I am not a coward,” Nejdanov observed gloomily.
“I meant to say that he would have thought us both cowards. I am coming with you.”
Mariana went into her own room to get a shawl, while Pavel gave an inward ha, ha, and quickly vanished. He ran to warn Solomin.