young men, beamed with satisfaction, try as she might to hide it, and perturbed as she evidently was each time her husband moved in his sleep behind her.
There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything else, but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Márya Hendríkhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn.
Rostóv received his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Márya Hendríkhovna to stir it.
“But you take it without sugar?” she said, smiling all the time, as if everything she said and everything the others said was very amusing and had a double meaning.
“It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should stir my tea.”
Márya Hendríkhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which someone meanwhile had pounced on.
“Use your finger, Márya Hendríkhovna, it will be still