nicer,” said Rostóv.
“Too hot!” she replied, blushing with pleasure.
Ilyín put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it to Márya Hendríkhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger.
“This is my cup,” said he. “Only dip your finger in it and I’ll drink it all up.”
When they had emptied the samovar, Rostóv took a pack of cards and proposed that they should play “Kings” with Márya Hendríkhovna. They drew lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostóv’s suggestion it was agreed that whoever became “King” should have the right to kiss Márya Hendríkhovna’s hand, and that the “Booby” should go to refill and reheat the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke.
“Well, but supposing Márya Hendríkhovna is ‘King’?” asked Ilyín.
“As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!”
They had hardly begun