She drooped her head, and ceased speaking in confusion.
Kister was in a sort of terror. 'It can't be!' he kept repeating to himself.
'Marya Sergievna!' he began at last.
Masha lifted her head, and turned upon him eyes heavy with unshed tears.
'You don't guess of whom I am speaking?' she asked.
Scarcely daring to breathe, Kister held out his hand. Masha at once clutched it warmly.
'You are my friend as before, aren't you? . . . Why don't you answer?'
'I am your friend, you know that,' he murmured.
'And you are not hard on me? You forgive me? . . . You understand me? You're not laughing at a girl who made an appointment only yesterday with one man, and to-day is talking to another, as I am talking to you. . . . You're not laughing at me, are you? . . .' Masha's face glowed crimson, she clung with both hands to Kister's hand. . . .
'Laugh at you,' answered Kister: 'I . . . I . . . why, I love you . . . I love you,' he cried.
Masha hid her face.
'Surely you've long known that I love you, Marya Sergievna?'
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