.." Soloviev started in to vociferate
like an arch-deacon and suddenly missed fire. "Father-prelates,"
he began to murmur in astonishment, trying to continue the
unsuccessful jest. "Why, but this is ... This is ... ah, the devil
... this is Sonya, no, my mistake, Nadya ... Well, yes! Liubka
from Anna Markovna's ..."
Liubka blushed hotly, to the verge of tears, and covered her face
with her palms. Lichonin noticed this, understood, sensed the
thoroughly agitated soul of the girl, and came to her aid. He
sternly, almost rudely, stopped Soloviev.
"Perfectly correct, Soloviev. As in a directory. Liubka from the
Yamkas. Formerly a prostitute. Even more, still yesterday a
prostitute. But from to-day--my friend, my sister. And so let
everyone, who respects me to any extent, regard her. Otherwise
..."
The ponderous Soloviev hurriedly, sincerely, and powerfully
embraced and rumpled Lichonin.
"Well, dear fellow, well, that's enough ... I committed a
stupidity in the flurry. It won't be repeated any more. Hail, my
pale-faced sister." He extended his hand with a broad sweep across
the table to Liubka, and squeezed her listless, small and short
fingers with gnawed, tiny nails.
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