with that friendly, inquisitive, soft glance, which is a gift only vouchsafed to young girls.
'Yes... nature... of course...' muttered Avdey. 'Of course... a stroll's pleasant in the evening, though, I confess, I'm a soldier, and fine sentiments are not in my line.'
Lutchkov often repeated that he 'was a soldier.' A brief silence followed. Masha was still looking at the meadow.
'How about getting away?' thought Avdey. 'What rot it is, though! Come, more pluck!... Marya Sergievna...' he began, in a fairly resolute voice.
Masha turned to him.
'Excuse me,' he began, as though in joke, 'but let me on my side know what you think of me, whether you feel at all... so to say,... amiably disposed towards my person?'
'Mercy on us, how uncouth he is!' Masha said to herself. 'Do you know, Mr. Lutchkov,' she answered him with a smile, 'it's not always easy to give a direct answer to a direct question.'
'Still...'
'But what is it to you?'
'Oh, really now, I want to know...'
'But... Is it true that you are a great duellist? Tell me, is it true?' said Masha, with shy curiosity. 'They do say you have killed more than one man?'
