asleep on the sofa, with his head hanging and his mouth a little open.
'What is it?' Kister inquired with curiosity.
'You will laugh at me.'
'Oh, no, really!...'
Masha let her head sink till only the upper part of her face remained uncovered by her hands and in a half whisper, not without hesitation, asked Kister why it was he never brought Mr. Lutchkov with him. It was not the first time Masha had mentioned him since the ball.... Kister did not speak. Masha glanced timorously over her interlaced fingers.
'May I tell you frankly what I think?' Kister asked her.
'Oh, why not? of course.'
'It seems to me that Lutchkov has made a great impression on you.'
'No!' answered Masha, and she bent over, as though wishing to examine the pattern more closely; a narrow golden streak of light lay on her hair; 'no... but...'
'Well, but?' said Kister, smiling.
'Well, don't you see,' said Masha, and she suddenly lifted her head, so that the streak of light fell straight in her eyes; 'don't you see... he...'
'He interests you....'
'Well... yes...' Masha said slowly; she flushed a little, turned her head a little
