You may talk about his wash and underwear and food, but nothing else!" insisted the warden, his voice, however, expressing utter indifference.
"All right," said Pavel.

"Keep to domestic affairs, mother.

What are you doing ?" She answered boldly, seized with youthful ardor: "I carry all this to the factory." She paused with a smile and continued: "Sour soup, gruel, all Marya's cookery, and other stuff." Pavel understood.

The muscles of his face quivered with restrained laughter.

He ran his fingers through his hair and said in a tender tone, such as she had never heard him use: "My own dear mother! That's good! It's good you've found something to do, so it isn't tedious for you.