'There, there, that's enough.' (Nenila Makarievna walked about the room.) 'Oh tell me,' she went on in the voice of one who feels that the question asked is of no special importance; 'what were you talking about with Avdey Ivanovitch to-day?'
'With Avdey Ivanovitch?' Masha repeated serenely. 'Oh, all sorts of things....'
'Do you remember how anxious you were to get to know him, how excited you were?'
'What a strange person he is!' Nenila Makarievna observed good-humouredly.
Masha felt an inclination to defend Lutchkov, but she held her tongue.
'Yes, of course,' she said rather carelessly; 'he is a queer fish, but still he's a nice man!'
'Oh, yes!... Why didn't Fyodor Fedoritch come?'
'He was unwell, I suppose. Ah! by the way, Fyodor Fedoritch wanted to make me a present of a puppy.... Will you let me?'
'Oh, thank you!' said Masha, 'thank you, thank you!'
Nenila Makarievna got as far as the door and suddenly turned back again.
'You were going to tell me when you fall in love.'
'Well... hasn't the time come yet?' (Masha laughed musically.) 'Look into my eyes.'
Masha looked brightly and boldly at her mother.
'It can't be!' thought Nenila Makarievna, and she felt reassured. 'As if she could deceive me!... How could I think of such a thing!... She's still a perfect baby....'
'But this is really wicked,' thought Masha.
Kister had already gone to bed when Lutchkov came into his room. The bully's face never expressed _one_ feeling; so it was now: feigned indifference, coarse delight, consciousness of his own superiority... a number of different emotions were playing over his features.
'Well, how was it? how was it?' Kister made haste to question him.
Lutchkov stared at the ceiling and hummed out of tune. Kister looked down and mused.
'But, look here,' Lutchkov brought out in a husky, jarring voice, 'you're a clever fellow, I dare say, you're a cultured fellow, but you're a good bit out in your ideas sometimes for all that, if I may venture to say so.'
'Why, look here. About women, for instance. How you're always cracking them up! You're never tired of singing their praises! To listen to you, they're all angels.... Nice sort of angels!'
'Oh, of course, of course,' Avdey cut him short. 'I am not going to argue with you. That's quite beyond me! I'm a plain man.'