ttle cadet has come to you. He's waiting."

"Ah, that's the little baby of last year... Well, the devil with him!"

"And that's right, too. But how healthy and handsome the lad has grown,
and how tall... It's a delight, that's all! So if you don't want to,
I'll go myself."

Tamara saw in the mirror how Jennka contracted her eyebrows.

"No, you wait a while, Tamara, don't. I'll see. Send him here to me.
Say that I'm not well, that my head aches."

"I have already told him, anyway, that Zociya had opened the door
unsuccessfully and hit you on the head; and that you're lying down with
a cold pack. But the only thing is, is it worth while, Jennechka?"

"Whether it's worth while or not, that's not your business, Tamara,"
answered Jennka rudely.

Tamara asked cautiously:

"Is it possible, then, that you aren't at all, at all sorry?"

"But for me you aren't sorry?" and she passed her hand over the red
stripe that slashed her throat. "And for yourself you aren't sorry? And
not sorry for this Liubka, miserable as she is? And not sorry for
Pashka? You're huckleberry jelly, and not a human being!"

Tamara smiled craftily and haughtily:

"No, when it comes to a real matter, I'm not jelly. Perhaps you'll see
this soon, Jennechka. Only let's better not quarrel--as it is it isn't
any too sweet to live. All right, I'll go at once and send him to you."

When she had gone away, Jennka lowered the light in the little hanging
blue lantern, put on her night blouse, and lay down. A minute later
Gladishev walked in; and after him Tamara, dragging Petrov by the hand,
who resisted and kept his head down. And in the rear was thrust in the
pink, sharp, foxy little phiz of the cross-eyed housekeeper Zociya.

"And that's fine, now," the housekeeper commenced to bustle. "It's just
sweet to look at; two handsome gents and two swell dames. A regular
bouquet. What shall I treat you with, young people? Will you order beer
or wine?"

Gladishev had a great deal of money in his pocket, as much as he never
had before during all his brief life--all of twenty-five roubles; and
he wanted to go on a splurge. Beer he drank only out of bravado, but
could not bear its bitter taste, and wondered himself how others could
ever drink it. And for that reason, squeamishly, like an old rake,
sticking out his lower lip, he said mistrustfully:

"But then, you surely must have some awful stuff?"

"What do you mean, what do you mean, good-looking! The very