You imagine too much." "What do I imagine ?" cried the girl, irritated.
"Why, all these are not your own ideas.

They are someone else's." "Someone else's.

Someone else's." She felt like saying something harsh; but broke down and became silent.
Foma looked at her and, setting Medinskaya by her side, thought sadly: "How different everything is--both men and women--and you never feel alike." They sat opposite each other; both were lost in thought, and neither one looked at the other.

It was getting dark outside, and in the room it was quite dark already.

The wind was shaking the linden-trees, and their branches seemed to clutch at the walls of the house, as though they felt cold and implored for shelter in the rooms.
"Luba!" said Foma, softly.
She raised her head and looked at him.
"Do you know, I have quarrelled with Medinskaya." "Why ?" asked Luba, brightening up.
"So.