especially loquacious, fervid and, of course, insincere, in the expression of her sympathy. And then . . . not that I regretted what I had begun, the question simply occurred to me: Is it worth while?
"Do you love your husband intensely?" I said to Tatiana Nikolayevna, whose gaze followed Alexis. She turned quickly.
"Yes. What of it?"
"Oh, nothing, only—" and after momentary silence, cautious and full of unuttered thoughts, I added: "Why have you no cofidence in me?"
She quickly and directly looked into my eyes, without replying. During this minute I forgot that some time in the past she laughed, and my mind was free from malice against her, and that which I was doing seemed to me unnecessary and strange. It was my weariness, natural after a severe ordeal of the nerves, and it lingered but a single moment.
"And may one trust you?" asked Tatiana Nikolayevna after a prolonged silence.
