CHAPTER III.
It was still early--about nine--of a rainy August evening. The
illuminated drawing room in the house of Anna Markovna was almost
empty. Only near the very doors a young telegraph clerk was
sitting, his legs shyly and awkwardly squeezed under his chair,
and was trying to start with the thick-fleshed Katie that worldly,
unconstrained conversation which is laid down as the proper thing
in polite society at quadrille, during the intermissions between
the figures of the dance. And, also, the long-legged, aged Roly-
Poly wandered over the room, sitting down now next one girl, now
another, and entertaining them all with his fluent chatter.
When Kolya Gladishev walked into the front hall, the first to
recognize him was the round-eyed Verka, dressed in her usual
jockey costume. She began to twirl round and round, to clap her
palms, and called out:
"Jennka, Jennka, come quicker, your little lover has come to you
... The little cadet ... And what a handsome little fellow!"
But Jennka was not in the drawing room at this time; a stout head-
conductor had already managed to get hold of her.
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