“I’ll stay here a little longer.”
“Very well.”
Lubov and Foma again remained alone.
“What a man your father is,” said Foma, nodding his head toward the direction of his godfather.
“Well, what kind of a man do you think he is?”
“He retorts every call, and wants to cover everything with his words.”
“Yes, he is clever. And yet he does not understand how painful my life is,” said Lubov, sadly.
“Neither do I understand it. You imagine too much.”
“What do I imagine?” cried the girl, irritated.
“Why, all these are not your own ideas. They are someone else’s.”