Nikolay and
the mother rose simultaneously, but at the kitchen door Nikolay
turned aside.
"You'd better do it," he said.
"He's not willing?" the girl asked the moment the mother opened the door.
"No."
"I knew it!" Sasha's face paled. She unbuttoned her coat, fastened
two buttons again, then tried to remove her coat, unsuccessfully, of
course. "Dreadful weather--rain, wind; it's disgusting! Is he well?"
"Yes."
"Well and happy; always the same, and only this--" Her tone was
disconsolate, and she regarded her hands.
"He writes that Rybin ought to be freed." The mother kept her eyes
turned from the girl.
"Yes? It seems to me we ought to make use of this plan."
"I think so, too," said Nikolay, appearing at the door. "How do
you do, Sasha?"
The girl asked, extending her hand to him:
"What's the question about? Aren't all agreed that the plan is
practicable? I know they are."
"And who'll organize it? Everybody's occupied."
"Give it to me," said Sasha, quickly jumping to her feet. "I have time!"
"Take it. But you must ask others."
"Very well, I will. I'll go at once."
She began to button up her coat again with sure, thin fingers.
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