my good sir,' she began, again wiping her eyes with the ends of her kerchief, 'really have any idea of the kind, and you are not intending anything dishonourable to us, but on the contrary, wish to show us respect, you 'd better talk a bit with my other daughter. She 'll tell you everything better than I can. . . . Annotchka ! called Madame Milovidov, 'Annotchka, come here! Here is a worthy gentleman from Moscow wants to have a talk about Katia!'
There was a sound of something moving in the next room; but no one appeared. 'Annotchka!' the widow called again, 'Anna Semyonovna! come here, I tell you!'
The door softly opened, and in the doorway appeared a girl no longer very young, looking ill — and plain — but with very soft and mournful eyes. Aratov got up from his seat to meet her, and introduced himself, mentioning his friend Kupfer. 'Ah! Fyodor Fedoritch?' the girl articulated softly, and softly she sank into a chair.
'Now, then, you must talk to the gentleman,' said Madam Milovidov, getting up heavily: 'he 's taken trouble enough, he 's come all the way from Moscow on purpose — he wants to collect information about Katia. And will you, my good sir,' she added, addressing Aratov — ' excuse me . . . I 'm going to look after my housekeeping. You can get a very good
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