ask your forgiveness... your advice. You have accustomed me to frankness; I am at ease with you.... You are not a Mr. Lutchkov!'
'Lutchkov is clumsy and coarse,' Kister brought out with difficulty; 'but...'
'Why but? Aren't you ashamed to say but? He is coarse, and clumsy, and ill-natured, and conceited.... Do you hear?—and, not but.'
'You are speaking under the influence of anger, Marya Sergievna,' Kister observed mournfully.
'Anger? A strange sort of anger! Look at me; are people like this when they 're angry? Listen,' pursued Masha; 'you may think what you like of me... but if you imagine I am flirting with you to-day from pique, well... well...' (tears stood in her eyes)'I shall be angry in earnest.'
'Do be open with me, Marya Sergievna...'
'O, silly fellow! how slow you are! Why, look at me, am I not open with you, don't you see right through me?'
'Oh, very well... yes; I believe you,' Kister said with a smile, seeing with what anxious insistence she tried to catch his eyes. 'But tell me, what induced you to arrange to meet Lutchkov?'
'What induced me? I really don't know.
