Oh, yes! And I was meaning to go to her. . . .
Marianna was moving to the door.. . .
Something strange, something akin to terror, misery, came out on Nezhdanov's face.. . .
'Marianna, are you going away, dear?' he said suddenly in a failing voice.
She stopped.
'I'll be back in half an hour. It won't take me long to pack.'
'Yes; but come to me.. . .'
'Certainly, what for?'
'I wanted to have one more look at you.' He took a long, slow look at her. 'Good-bye, good-bye, Marianna!'
She was bewildered. 'Why . . . what on earth am I talking about? I'm talking rubbish. Why, you'll be back in half an hour, won't you? Eh?'
'Of course.'
'To be sure. . ., Forgive me. My head's reeling from want of sleep. I too will . . . pack up directly.'
Marianna went out of the room. Solomin was about to follow her.
Nezhdanov stopped him.
'Vassily!'
'Well?'
'Give me your hand. I have to thank you, dear friend, for your hospitality.'
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