The naive Liuba did, in fact, extend her lips toward Lichonin’s hand, and this movement made everybody laugh, and touched them just the least trifle. “And that’s very good! It’s like magic!” bustled the overjoyed Lichonin. “Go and notify the proprietress at once that you’re going away from here forever. And take the most necessary things; it isn’t as it used to be; now a girl can go away from a brothel whenever she wants to.” “No, it can’t be done that way,” Jennie stopped him; “she can go away, that’s so, but you’ll have no end of unpleasantness and hullabaloo. Here’s what you do, student. You won’t regret ten roubles?” “Of course, of course ... if you please.” “Let Liuba tell the housekeeper that you’re taking her to your rooms for to-day. That’s the fixed rate—ten roubles. And afterwards, well, even to-morrow—come after the ticket and things. That’s nothing; we’ll work this thing roundly. And after that you must go to the police with her ticket and declare, that Liubka So-and-so has hired herself to you as chambermaid, and that you desire to exchange her blank for a real passport. Well, Liubka, lively! Take the money and march. And, look out, be as quick as possible with the housekeeper, or else she, the bitch, will read it in your eyes. And also don’t forget,” she cried, now after Liuba, “wipe the rouge off your puss, now. Or else the drivers will be pointing their fingers at you.” After half an hour Liuba and Lichonin were getting on a cab at the entrance. Jennie and the reporter were standing on the sidewalk. “You’re committing a great folly, Lichonin,” Platonov was saying listlessly, “but I honour and respect the fine impulse within you. Here’s the thought—and here’s the deed. You’re a brave and a splendid fellow.” “Here’s to your commencement!” laughed Jennie. “Look out, don’t forget to send for me to the christening.” “You won’t see it, no matter how long you wait for it!” laughed Lichonin, waving his cap about. They rode off. The reporter looked at Jennie, and with astonishment saw tears in her softened eyes. “God grant it, God grant it,” she was whispering. “What has been the matter with you to-day, Jennie?” he asked kindly. “What? Are you oppressed? Can’t I do anything?” She turned her back to him and leaned over the bent balustrade of the stoop. “How shall I write to you, if need be?” she asked in a stifled voice. “Why, it’s simple. Editorial rooms of Echoes. So-and-so. They’ll pass it on to me pretty fast.” “I ... I ... I ...” Jennie just began, but suddenly burst into loud, passionate sobs and covered her face with her hands, “I’ll write you ...” And without taking her hands away from her face, her shoulders quivering, she ran up the stoop and disappeared in the house, loudly banging the door after her. PART TWO CHAPTER I.