But it matters not.
She is nothing to me.

But she will keep my children with her life." His trust in her, his contempt for her, awakened in Mrs.Fitzpatrick a kind of hostility toward him, and of pity for the wretched woman whom, while he trusted, he so despised.
"Come an' take an air o' the fire, Paulina," she said not unkindly.
"It's cold forninst the door." Paulina, while she understood not the words, caught the meaning of the gesture, but especially of the tone.

She drew near, caught the Irish woman's hand in hers and kissed it.
"Hut!" said Mrs.Fitzpatrick, drawing away her hand.
"Sit down, will ye ?" The Russian rose to his feet.
"I must now depart.

I have still a little work to accomplish.
To-morrow I leave the city.

Permit me now to bid my children farewell." He turned to the girl, who held Paulina's baby asleep in her arms.
"Irma," he said in Russian, "I am going to leave you." The girl rose, placed the sleeping baby on the bed, and coming to her father's side, stood looking up into his face, her wonderful brown eyes shining with tears she was too brave to shed.
He drew her to him.
"I am going to leave you," he repeated in Russian.