"Did you enjoy yourself?" asks Nita, in her sympathetic, motherly way, while she embraces her friend.
"Splendidly; it was charming," says Sonia, enthusiastically.
"What was the play?"
Sonia is silent a moment, confusedly. "'Les deux Orphelines,'" murmured she, hesitatingly, ponderingly. Then she corrects herself. "No, no; how stupid I am! 'Les Pilules du Diable.'"
And Nita strokes her flushed cheeks laughingly, and kisses her on her eyes. "How pretty you are; you grow prettier every day," she whispers to her.
"Nikolai said that to me to-day also," says Sonia, proudly, and blushes deeply.
"So! And did he not say something more significant?" laughs Nita.
"What should he say?" stammers Sonia. "I do not know."
"What droll people you two are!" says Nita, shaking her head. "To think that this moonlight-twilight has lasted since December. Pardon me, Sonia, but Nikolai is a riddle to me. How can one be so nice, so clever, and at the same time so slow and awkward? How can one need so long a time to bring something from the heart to the lips?"
"How do you know what he has in his heart?" replies Sonia, with a frown, but with only half-repressed joy in her voice. "And now, tell me, have you nothing for me to eat? I am fearfully hungry."