"Why, she's a woman; what would she do there alone? What does she
know about it? That would only be a loss of time and a useless waste
of money."

"That's reasonable . . ." thought Samoylenko, but remembering his
conversation with Von Koren, he looked down and said sullenly: "I
can't agree with you. Either go with her or send her first; otherwise
. . . otherwise I won't give you the money. Those are my last
words. . ."

He staggered back, lurched backwards against the door, and went
into the drawing-room, crimson, and overcome with confusion.

"Friday . . . Friday," thought Laevsky, going back into the
drawing-room. "Friday. . . ."

He was handed a cup of chocolate; he burnt his lips and tongue with
the scalding chocolate and thought: "Friday . . . Friday. . . ."

For some reason he could not get the word "Friday" out of his head;
he could think of nothing but Friday, and the only thing that was
clear to him, not in his brain but somewhere in his heart, was that
he would not get off on Saturday. Before him stood Nikodim Alexandritch,
very neat, with his hair combed over his temples, saying:

"Please take something to eat. . . ."

Marya Konstantinovna showed the visitors Katya's school report and
said, drawling: