Part 92

Paklin pulled himself up.

“Why, of course... do have some more tea.”

But Mashurina fixed her dark eyes upon him and said pensively:

“You don’t happen to have any letter of Nejdanov’s... or his photograph?”

“I have a photograph and quite a good one too. I believe it’s in the table drawer. I’ll get it in a minute.”

He began rummaging about in the drawer, while Snandulia went up to Mashurina and with a long, intent look full of sympathy, clasped her hand like a comrade.

“Here it is!” Paklin exclaimed and handed her the photograph.

Mashurina thrust it into her pocket quickly, scarcely glancing at it, and without a word of thanks, flushing bright red, she put on her hat and made for the door.

“Are you going?” Paklin asked. “Where do you live? You might tell me that at any rate.”

“Wherever I happen to be.”

“I understand. You don’t want me to know. Tell me at least, are you still working under Vassily Nikolaevitch?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Or someone else, perhaps Sidor Sidoritch?”

Mashurina did not reply.

“Or is your director some anonymous person?” Mashurina had already stepped across the threshold. “Perhaps it is someone anonymous!”

She slammed the door.

Paklin stood for a long time motionless before this closed door.

“Anonymous Russia!” he said at last.