During coffee, as often happened, a peculiarly feminine kind of conversation went on which had no logical sequence but which evidently was connected in some way for it went on uninterruptedly.
The two old ladies were pinpricking one another, and Liza was skillfully manoeuvring between them.
“I am so vexed that we had not finished washing your room before you got back,” she said to her husband. “But I do so want to get everything arranged.”
“Well, did you sleep well after I got up?”
“Yes, I slept well and I fell well.”
“How can a woman be well in her condition during this intolerable heat, when her windows face the sun,” said Varvára Alexéevna, her mother. “And they have no venetian-blinds or awnings. I always had awnings.”
“But you know we are in the shade after ten o’clock,” said Mary Pávlovna.