"He
used to sit with his feet sprawling, and blow noisily into his glass
of tea. He had a red, satisfied, sweet-covered face."
"I remember, I remember," said the mother, coming back to the table.
She sat down, and looking at Yegor with a mournful expression in her
eyes, she spoke pityingly: "Poor Sashenka! How will she ever get
to the city?"
"She will be very much worn out," Yegor agreed. "The prison has
shaken her health badly. She was stronger before. Besides, she
has had a delicate bringing up. It seems to me she has already
ruined her lungs. There is something in her face that reminds one
of consumption."
"Who is she?"
"The daughter of a landlord. Her father is a rich man and a big
scoundrel, according to what she says. I suppose you know, granny,
that they want to marry?"
"Who?"
"She and Pavel. Yes, indeed! But so far they have not yet been able.
When he is free, she is in prison, and vice versa." Yegor laughed.
"I didn't know it!" the mother replied after a pause. "Pasha never
speaks about himself."
Now she felt a still greater pity for the girl, and looking at her
guest with involuntary hostility, she said:
"You ought to have seen her home.
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