Vera had never before
seen such terror, and at once, as though the thing were an infectious
disease, her own heart began to beat furiously. He was shaking so that
the fur cap, which was too large for his head, waggled up and down over
his eye in a ludicrous manner.
His face was dirty as though he had been crying, and a horrid pallid
grey in colour.
His collar was torn, showing his neck between the folds of his overcoat.
Vera looked out down the stairs as though she expected to see something.
The flat was perfectly still. There was not a sound anywhere. She turned
back to the man again, he was crouching against the wall.
"You can't come in here," she repeated. "My sister and I are alone. What
do you want?... What's the matter?"
"Shut the door!... Shut the door!... Shut the door!..." he repeated.
She closed it. "Now what is it?" she asked, and then, hearing a sound,
turned to find that Nina was standing with wide eyes, watching.
"What is it?" Nina asked in a whisper.
"I don't know," said Vera, also whispering. "He won't tell me."
He pushed past them then into the dining-room, looked about him for a
moment, then sank into a chair as though his legs would no longer
support him, holding on to the cloth with both hands.
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