She stood still and did not answer him at once--not because she was
angry, but because her thoughts were far away.

'No,' she said at last, 'I am not in the least angry.' Shubin bit his
lip.

'What an absorbed . . . and what an indifferent face!' he muttered.
'Elena Nikolaevna,' he continued, raising his voice, 'allow me to
tell you a little anecdote. I had a friend, and this friend also had a
friend, who at first conducted himself as befits a gentleman but
afterwards took to drink. So one day early in the morning, my friend
meets him in the street (and by that time, note, the acquaintance has
been completely dropped) meets him and sees he is drunk. My friend
went and turned his back on him. But he ran up and said, "I would not
be angry," says he, "if you refused to recognise me, but why should
you turn your back on me? Perhaps I have been brought to this through
grief. Peace to my ashes!"'

Shubin paused.

'And is that all?' inquired Elena.

'Yes that's all.'

'I don't understand you. What are you hinting at? You told me just
now not to look your way.'

'Yes, and now I have told you that it's too bad to turn your back on
me.'