“Is he rich?”
“No, he lives like everyone else.”
“Good-bye!... Glasha-a!”
“Now, now! Don’t call.... You know Glasha is good and not yours. Go along. There’s nothing to hang around for.”
Kindly pity could be heard in the voice of the village beauty.
Outside the dark figure of Andrey Ivanovich left the gate and hurried towards us, while at the same time Avtonomov overtook us and silently went ahead of us.
“You should have stayed till morning,” remarked Andrey Ivanovich grimly. “I could have waited here!”
“That’s foolish,” I answered coldly.
“How so? Why?”