You see, how good-looking you are, that a wench does not
grudge even money for you?" she began laughing.
Gladishev turned around to her; even his unobserving ear was
struck by Jennka's strange tone--neither sad, nor kindly, nor yet
mocking.
"No, sweetie, I'd be very glad to; I'd like to remain myself, but
I can't possibly; I promised to be home toward ten o'clock."
"That's nothing, dear, they'll wait; you're altogether a grown-up
man now. Is it possible that you have to listen to anybody? ...
But, however, as you wish. Shall I put out the light entirely,
perhaps; or is it all right the way it is? Which do you want--the
outside or near the wall?"
"It's immaterial to me," he answered in a quavering voice; and,
having embraced with his arm the hot, dry body of Jennka, he
stretched with his lips toward her face. She slightly repulsed
him.
"Wait, bear a while, sweetheart--we have time enough to kiss our
fill yet. Just lie still for one little minute... So, now...
quiet, peaceful... don't stir..."
These words, passionate and imperious, acted like hypnosis upon
Gladishev.
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