e night for that business...Go ahead, go
ahead, who's holding you. But only if you won't be here when we begin
work, then this day don't count. I'll take any tramp. And as many
watermelons as he busts--that's out of your share, too...I didn't think
it of you, Platonov--that you're such a he-dog..."

Jennka was waiting for him in the tiny little square, sheltered between
a church and the wharf, and consisting of ten sorry poplars. She had on
a gray, one-piece street dress; a simple, round, straw hat with a small
black ribbon. "And yet, even though she has dressed herself simply,"
reflected Platonov, looking at her from a distance with his habitually
puckered eyes, "and yet, every man will walk past, give a look, and
inevitably look back three or four times; he'll feel the especial tone
at once."

"Howdy do, Jennka! Very glad to see you," he said cordially, squeezing
the girl's hand. "There, now, I didn't expect it!"

Jennka was reserved, sad, and apparently troubled over something.
Platonov at once understood and sensed this.

"You excuse me, Jennechka, I must have dinner right away," said he,
"so, perhaps, you'll go together with me and tell me what's the matter,
while I'll manage to eat at the same time. There's a modest little inn
not far from here. At this time there are no people there at all, and
there's even a tiny little stall, a sort of a private room; that will
be just the thing for you and me. Let's go! Perhaps you'll also have a
bite of something."

"No. I won't eat," answered Jennka hoarsely, "and I won't detain you
for long...a few minutes. I have to talk things over, have some
advice--but I haven't anybody."

"Very well...Let's go then! In whatever way I can, I'm always at your
service, in everything. I love you very much, Jennka!"

She looked at him sadly and gratefully.

"I know this, Serge Ivanovich; that's why I've come."

"You need money, perhaps? Just say so. I haven't got much with me,
myself; but the gang will trust me with an advance."

"No, thanks...it isn't that at all. I'll tell everything at once,
there, where we're going now."

In the dim, low-ceiled little inn, the customary haunt of petty
thieves, where business was carried on only in the evening, until very
far into the night, Platonov took the little half-dark cubby hole.

"Give me boiled meat, cucumbers, a large glass of vodka, and bread," he
ordered the waiter.

The waiter--a young fellow with a dirty face; pugnosed; as