"Very well."

Mashurina was silent for a while and then extended her hand.

"I am afraid I interrupted you. I am so sorry. But then. . . I
am going away. . . who knows if we shall ever meet again. . .
I wanted to say goodbye to you."

Nejdanov pressed her cold, red fingers. "You know the man who was
here today," he began. "I have come to terms with him, and am
going with him. His place is down in the province of S., not far
from the town itself."

A glad smile lit up Mashurina's face.

"Near S. did you say? Then we may see each other again perhaps.
They might send us there!" Mashurina sighed. "Oh, Alexai
Dmitritch--"

"What is it?" Nejdanov asked.

Mashurina looked intense.

"Oh, nothing. Goodbye. It's nothing." She squeezed Nejdanov's
hand a second time and went out.

"There is not a soul in St. Petersburg who is so attached to me
as this eccentric person," he thought. " I wish she had not
interrupted me though. However, I suppose it's for the best."