so dreadfully from the heat here that they cannot go as fast as is expected of them."
I shivered. "Which is that personage I see down there,—a man or a woman?" The figure wore a long cloak, like a petticoat with a waist to it, made of skins, big felt boots, mittens, and a hat the flap of which covered the back of the head, ears, and shoulders.
George shook his head at my question. "I cannot guess. How calmly it sits there on the ice, as if entirely comfortable!"
As we walked on, he continued, "They will disappear when it grows warmer, as mysteriously as they came. No one ever sees them go or come. But you would better take my arm, for it is dark, and the people push one about so." We had reached the Nevsky by this time.
"I thought of doing that some time ago," I responded, "but you were so shocked at my unconventionality in sending Mathilde home that I was afraid."
"Not shocked," he remonstrated. "I only wished to remind you."
"Very kind of you. I see that you are one of that large class of men who think that women should be watched lest they take a step out of the beaten track."
This I said because it suddenly occurred to me that George and I were getting on quite amicably together, which was not at all as it should be, considering my dislike for him. To my surprise he made no reply, but sighed deeply. I waited. "Well?" I said at last, impatiently.
"Nothing," with a little laugh.
