up, in the hall near the men's hats or on a box in the dining-room,
where the old cat did not hesitate to sleep on it. This shawl and
the folds of her blouse suggested a feeling of freedom and laziness,
of good-nature and sitting at home. Perhaps because Vera attracted
Ognev he saw in every frill and button something warm, naïve, cosy,
something nice and poetical, just what is lacking in cold, insincere
women that have no instinct for beauty.

Verotchka had a good figure, a regular profile, and beautiful curly
hair. Ognev, who had seen few women in his life, thought her a
beauty.

"I am going away," he said as he took leave of her at the gate.
"Don't remember evil against me! Thank you for everything!"

In the same singing divinity student's voice in which he had talked
to her father, with the same blinking and twitching of his shoulders,
he began thanking Vera for her hospitality, kindness, and friendliness.

"I've written about you in every letter to my mother," he said. "If
everyone were like you and your dad, what a jolly place the world
would be! You are such a splendid set of people! All such genuine,
friendly people with no nonsense about you."

"Where are you going to now?" asked Vera.

"I am going now to my mother's at Oryol; I shall be a fortnight
with her, and then back to Petersburg and work."

"And then?"