I glanced at Liza (she was sitting in the corner almost beside Shatov).

Her eyes darted keenly from Varvara Petrovna to the cripple and back again; her lips were drawn into a smile, but not a pleasant one.

Varvara Petrovna saw that smile.

Meanwhile Marya Timofyevna was absolutely transported.

With evident enjoyment and without a trace of embarrassment she stared at Varvara Petrovna's beautiful drawing-room--the furniture, the carpets, the pictures on the walls, the old-fashioned painted ceiling, the great bronze crucifix in the corner, the china lamp, the albums, the objects on the table.
"And you're here, too, Shatushka!" she cried suddenly.