"You darling? Welcome! Is it raining?"
"Greeting! Nina. I have just come in for a moment."
"Take off your coat," she urged. "You will have some tea?" Her eyes
and outstretched hands both said: "Thank you, thank you." "How are
you doing?" she asked him anxiously.
"I am bored. I can do nothing. I am utterly bored."
She placed the tea-urn on the table in her tiny kitchen, laid some
pots of jam by her copy-book, seated him in the solitary armchair,
and bustled round, all smiles, her cheeks flushing--the spot where
she had rested her hand all the long evening still showing red,--all-
loving, all-surrendering, yet undesired.
"You musn't wait on me like this, Nina," Agrenev protested;"... Sit
down and let us talk."
Their hands touched caressingly, and she sat down beside him.
"What is it, my dear?" She stroked his hand and its touch warmed her!
"What is it?"
At times indignation overcame her at the thought of life; she wrung
her hands, spoke with hatred, and her eyes darkened in anger. At
times she fell on her knees in tears and supplication; but with
Alexander Alexandrovitch she was always tender, with the tenderness
of unrequited love.
"What is it, darling?"
"I am bored, Nina. She ... Anna ... does not love me; she does not
leave me, nor deceive me, but neither does she love me. I know you
love .
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