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Yury’s first impulse was to go across and speak to her. But a shyness and lack of simplicity, entirely alien to his nature, had, in the past, crept into his relationship with her and now held him back. He decided not to disturb her, and not to interrupt his work. To avoid the temptation of looking at her, he turned his chair sideways, so that its back was almost against his table; he tried to concentrate on his books, holding one in his hand and another on his knees.

But his thoughts were worlds away from the subject he was reading. Suddenly he realized that the voice he had once heard in a dream on a winter night in Varykino had been Lara’s. The discovery took him so much by surprise that he jerked his chair back, making a noise which startled his neighbors, and stared at her.

When they looked away Yury knew what he needed to do. Carefully oh so carefully he slipped her muff from off the table. He took one of his hands and loosened his trousers and freed his id to wander. It stood to attention like a good soldier and he covered it with the mink fur hand covering so redolent of her scent. Finally he was content.