"She does," replied Pavel. "That's why she has refused to attend our meetings."
The Little Russian dragged his feet heavily over the floor, and again his low whistle quivered in the room. Then he asked:
"And if I tell her?"
"What?" The brief question shot from Pavel like the discharge of a gun.
"That I am—" began the Little Russian in a subdued voice.
"Why?" Pavel interrupted.
The mother heard the Little Russian stop, and she felt that he smiled.
"Yes, you see, I consider that if you love a girl you must tell her about it; else there'll be no sense to it!"
Pavel clapped the book shut with a bang.
"And what sense do you expect?"