'You've a splendid little cherub,' he said, and looking at his watch, 'I came in here to speak about some tea.'
And, assuming an expression of indifference, Pavel Petrovitch at once went out of the room.
'Did he come of himself?' Nikolai Petrovitch asked Fenitchka.
'Yes; he knocked and came in.'
'Well, and has Arkasha been in to see you again?'
'No. Hadn't I better move into the lodge, Nikolai Petrovitch?'
'Why so?'
'I wonder whether it wouldn't be best just for the first.'
'N ... no,' Nikolai Petrovitch brought out hesitatingly, rubbing his forehead. 'We ought to have done it before.... How are you, fatty?' he said, suddenly brightening, and going up to the baby, he kissed him on the cheek; then he bent a little and pressed his lips to Fenitchka's hand, which lay white as milk upon Mitya's little red smock.
'Nikolai Petrovitch! what are you doing?' she whispered, dropping her eyes, then slowly raising them. Very charming was the expression of her eyes when she peeped, as it were, from under her lids, and smiled tenderly and a little foolishly.
