e was careful to slip under the covers first.
Ivan, the second man, was short, thin, stooped. Often she found him
looking at her with what might have been more than a healthy interest,
but aside from that he kept his peace. Besides, Ivan had spent two
years in secondary school (as much as Sophia) and she enjoyed
conversing with him.

The third man, Georgi, was the troublemaker. Georgi was one of those
plump young men with red cheeks, big, eager eyes, a voice somewhat too
high. He was an avid talker, a boaster and a boor. In the beginning he
showered attentions on Sophia. He insisted on drawing her wash-basin
at night, escorted her to breakfast every morning, told her in
confidence of the conquests he had made over beautiful women (but not
as beautiful as you, Sophia). He soon began to take liberties. He
would sit--timorously at first, but with growing boldness--on the
corner of her bed, talking with her at night after the others had
retired, Ivan with his snores, Boris with his strong, deep breathing.
And night after night, plump Georgi grew bolder.

He would reach out and touch Sophia, he would insist on tucking her in
at night (let me be your big brother), he would awaken her in the
morning with his hand heavy on her shoulder. Finally, one night at
bedtime, she heard him conversing in low whispers with Ivan and Boris.
She could not hear the words, but Boris looked at her with what she
thought was surprise, Ivan nodded in an understanding way, and both of
them left the room.

Sophia frowned. "What did you tell them, Georgi?"

"That we wanted to be alone one evening, of course."

"I never gave you any indication--"

"I could see it in your eyes, in the way you looked at me."

"Well, you had better call them back inside and go to bed."

Georgi shook his head, approached her.

"Georgi! Call them back or I will."

"No, you won't." Georgi followed her as she retreated into a corner of
the room. When she reached the wall and could retreat no further, he
placed his thick hands on her shoulders, drew her to him slowly. "You
will call no one," he rasped.

* * * * *

She ducked under his arms, eluded him, was on the point of running to
the door, throwing it open and shouting, when she reconsidered. If she
did, she would be asking for quarter, gaining a temporary reprieve,
inviting the same sort of thing all over again.

She crossed to the bed and sat down. "Come here, Georgi."

"A