It's time for me to wring my hands like a nervous maiden. I again pace the room, but now for a completely different reason: my delicate flower almost broke. And I'm to blame. After all, I knew that I was raising a very dangerous topic. But I didn't think she was that impressive. What do I even know about her, except for dry facts? Where can I understand the depth that lives in it?

- Well, what is there? - I tease Georgy Ivanovich, but simply - Zhora, as soon as he leaves the bedroom, where Taya, pale, already recovered, lies on the bed.

Don't worry, he will live. Happily...