The Torrents Of Spring
The Torrents Of Spring
The Torrents Of Spring
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‘And they do say,’ Sanin added with special emphasis on the word<br />
‘do,’ ‘that your wife is very rich.’<br />
‘<strong>The</strong>y say that too.’<br />
‘Do you mean to say, Ippolit Sidorovitch, you are not certain on that<br />
point?’<br />
‘I don’t meddle, my dear Dimitri … Pavlovitch? Yes, Pavlovitch! – in<br />
my wife’s affairs.’<br />
‘You don’t meddle? Not in any of her affairs?’<br />
Polozov again shifted his eyes. ‘Not in any, my boy. She does as she<br />
likes, and so do I.’<br />
‘Where are you going now?’ Sanin inquired.<br />
‘I’m not going anywhere just now; I’m standing in the street and talking<br />
to you; but when we’ve finished talking, I’m going back to my hotel,<br />
and am going to have lunch.’<br />
‘Would you care for my company?’<br />
‘You mean at lunch?’<br />
‘Yes.’<br />
‘Delighted, it’s much pleasanter to eat in company. You’re not a great<br />
talker, are you?’<br />
‘I think not.’<br />
‘So much the better.’<br />
Polozov went on. Sanin walked beside him. And Sanin speculated –<br />
Polozov’s lips were glued together, again he snorted heavily, and<br />
waddled along in silence – Sanin speculated in what way had this booby<br />
succeeded in catching a rich and beautiful wife. He was not rich himself,<br />
nor distinguished, nor clever; at school he had passed for a dull, slowwitted<br />
boy, sleepy, and greedy, and had borne the nickname ‘driveller.’<br />
It was marvellous!<br />
‘But if his wife is very rich, they say she’s the daughter of some sort of<br />
a contractor, won’t she buy my estate? Though he does say he doesn’t interfere<br />
in any of his wife’s affairs, that passes belief, really! Besides, I will<br />
name a moderate, reasonable price! Why not try? Perhaps, it’s all my<br />
lucky star… . Resolved! I’ll have a try!’<br />
Polozov led Sanin to one of the best hotels in Frankfort, in which he<br />
was, of course, occupying the best apartments. On the tables and chairs<br />
lay piles of packages, cardboard boxes, and parcels. ‘All purchases, my<br />
boy, for Maria Nikolaevna!’ (that was the name of the wife of Ippolit<br />
Sidorovitch). Polozov dropped into an arm-chair, groaned, ‘Oh, the<br />
heat!’ and loosened his cravat. <strong>The</strong>n he rang up the head-waiter, and<br />
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