At last, not without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to let his rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month.

The latter gladly agreed to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea.

The cornet declined it.
'According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to drink out of a "worldly" tumbler,' he said.

'Though, of course, with my education I may understand, but my wife from her human weakness...' 'Well then, will you have some tea ?' 'If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,' answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch.
'Bring me my glass!' he cried.
In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a print sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand.

The cornet went up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter.