“Marie⁠ ⁠… you know⁠ ⁠… you are very tired, perhaps, for God’s sake, don’t be angry.⁠ ⁠… If you’d consent to have some tea, for instance, eh? Tea picks one up so, doesn’t it? If you’d consent!”

“Why talk about consenting! Of course I consent, what a baby you are still. Get me some if you can. How cramped you are here. How cold it is!”

“Oh, I’ll get some logs for the fire directly, some logs⁠ ⁠… I’ve got logs.” Shatov was all astir. “Logs⁠ ⁠… that is⁠ ⁠… but I’ll get tea directly,” he waved his hand as though with desperate determination and snatched up his cap.

“Where are you going? So you’ve no tea in the house?”

“There shall be, there shall be, there shall be, there shall be everything directly.⁠ ⁠… I⁠ ⁠…” he took his revolver from the shelf, “I’ll sell this revolver directly⁠ ⁠… or pawn it.⁠ ⁠…”