He looked at her as she stood there, and suddenly understood that she was to be pitied; and as soon as he had grasped this he did pity her—ardently.
»You are poor, Liuba?«
»Well?«
»Give me your hand.«
And, as though to assert in some way his relation to the girl as a human being, he took her hand and respectfully raised it to his lips.
»You mean that ... for me?«
»Yes, Liuba, for you.«
Then quite quietly, as though thanking him, she said:
»Off you go! Get out of here, you block-head!«
He did not understand at once.