"I believe so; but I do not know her." I was angry with myself for blushing, and it was plain that he saw it and did not believe me.
"You know a man 't calls himself Count Pushkin?"
"Yes, I know him."
"He knows her and she knows him."
"Does she? I know nothing about that."
"Kind o' makin' a set for him, they say?"
"Is she? I hardly think it likely, if she knows him," I said coldly. I wondered with what malignant intuition he had read my thoughts.
"Oh! A good many people do that. They like the sound. It gives 'em power."
"Power!"
"Yes. Power's a pretty good thing to have. You can—" He looked out of the window and licked his lips in a sort of reverie. He suddenly opened and closed his hand with a gesture of crushing. "Power and money go togither?" And still smiling, with a farewell nod, he noiselessly withdrew and closed the door.