»You will be welcome. Madame gets her profit.«
»I shall come tomorrow. I shall come....«
And then, suddenly, almost simultaneously with the thought that neither tomorrow nor the day after would he be able to come, there flashed upon him the surmise, almost certainty, why the girl had struck him. His face cleared.
»Oh, that's it then! That's why you struck me—because I pitied you? I offended you with my compassion? Yes, it is very stupid ... but really, I didn't mean to—though of course it hurts. After all, you are human, just as I am....«
»Just as you are?« she smiled.
»Well, let that pass. Give me your hand. Let's be friends.«
She turned pale.
»You want me to smack your face again?«
»Give me your hand—as friends—as friends,« he repeated sincerely, but for some reason in a low voice.
But Liuba got up, and moving a little distance away said: