o tidy up; she's been busy all the while."

When Anyuta and the artist had gone out Klotchkov lay down on the
sofa and began learning, lying down; then he accidentally dropped
asleep, and waking up an hour later, propped his head on his fists
and sank into gloomy reflection. He recalled the artist's words
that an educated man was in duty bound to have taste, and his
surroundings actually struck him now as loathsome and revolting.
He saw, as it were in his mind's eye, his own future, when he would
see his patients in his consulting-room, drink tea in a large
dining-room in the company of his wife, a real lady. And now that
slop-pail in which the cigarette ends were swimming looked incredibly
disgusting. Anyuta, too, rose before his imagination--a plain,
slovenly, pitiful figure . . . and he made up his mind to part with
her at once, at all costs.

When, on coming back from the artist's, she took off her coat, he
got up and said to her seriously:

"Look here, my good girl . . . sit down and listen. We must part!
The fact is, I don't want to live with you any longer."

Anyuta had come back from the artist's worn out and exhausted.
Standing so long as a model had made her face look thin and sunken,
and her chin sharper than ever. She said nothing in answer to the
student's words, only her lips began to tremble.

"You know we should have to part sooner or later, anyway," said the
student. "You're a nice, good girl, and not a fool; you'll
understand. . . ."

Anyuta put on her coat again, in silence wrapped up her embroidery
in paper, gathered together her needles and thread: she found the
screw of paper with the four lumps of sugar in the window, and laid
it on the table by the books.

"That's . . . your sugar . . ." she said softly, and turned away
to conceal her tears.

"Why are you crying?" asked Klotchkov.

He walked about the room in confusion, and said:

"You are a strange girl, really. . . . Why, you know we shall have
to part. We can't stay together for ever."

She had gathered together all her belongings, and turned to say
good-bye to him, and he felt sorry for her.

"Shall I let her stay on here another week?" he thought. "She really
may as well stay, and I'll tell her to go in a week;" and vexed at
his own weakness, he shouted to her roughly:

"Come, why are you standing there? If you are going, go; and if you
don't want to, take off your coat and stay! You can stay!"

Anyuta took off her coat, s