"What?" she asked.

"I asked you just now. . . ."

"Excuse me, I did not hear what you were saying."

Only then Ognev noticed a change in Vera. She was pale, breathing
fast, and the tremor in her breathing affected her hands and lips
and head, and not one curl as usual, but two, came loose and fell
on her forehead. . . . Evidently she avoided looking him in the
face, and, trying to mask her emotion, at one moment fingered her
collar, which seemed to be rasping her neck, at another pulled her
red shawl from one shoulder to the other.

"I am afraid you are cold," said Ognev. "It's not at all wise to
sit in the mist. Let me see you back _nach-haus_."

Vera sat mute.

"What is the matter?" asked Ognev, with a smile. "You sit silent
and don't answer my questions. Are you cross, or don't you feel
well?"

Vera pressed the palm of her hand to the cheek nearest to Ognev,
and then abruptly jerked it away.

"An awful position!" she murmured, with a look of pain on her face.
"Awful!"