She was as ignorant of the world as on the day when she arrived amongst us; but my feeling about her was that she would receive his love almost as though in a dream, her thoughts fixed on something far from him and in no way depending on him.

At any rate she was with him now continually.

We judged her proud and hard-hearted, all of us except Trenchard who loved her, Semyonov who wanted her, and Nikitin, who, as I now believe, even then understood her.
Trenchard meanwhile was confused and unsettled: inaction did not suit him any better than it did the rest of us.

He had too much time to think about Marie Ivanovna.
He was undoubtedly pleased at his new popularity.

He expanded under it and became something of the loquacious and uncalculating person that he had shown himself during his confession to me in the train.