»Wouldn't you like a pear?«
The girl did not answer, but turned aside and caught his glance resting on her naked and translucently rosy shoulders, and flung a grey knitted shawl over them.
»It's rather cold,« she said abruptly.
»Yes, a little cold,« he agreed, although it was very warm in that little room.
And again there was a long and tense silence. From the hall could be heard the catchy rhythm of a noisy ritornello.
»They are dancing,« he said.
»They are dancing,« she replied.
»What was it made you so angry with me, that you struck me, Liuba?«
The girl hesitated and then answered sharply.
»There was nothing else for it so I struck you. I didn't kill you, so why make a fuss about it?«