This shrewd man's flattering words, the naive, childlike affection shown her by Liza Merkalova, and all the social atmosphere she was used to,-- it was all so easy, and what was in store for her was so difficult, that she was for a minute in uncertainty whether to remain, whether to put off a little longer the painful moment of explanation.

But remembering what was in store for her alone at home, if she did not come to some decision, remembering that gesture--terrible even in memory--when she had clutched her hair in both hands--she said good-bye and went away.

In spite of Vronsky's apparently frivolous life in society, he was a man who hated irregularity.

In early youth in the Corps of Pages, he had experienced the humiliation of a refusal, when he had tried, being in difficulties, to borrow money, and since then he had never once put himself in the same position again.

In order to keep his affairs in some sort of order, he used about five times a year (more or less frequently, according to circumstances) to shut himself up alone and put all his affairs into definite shape.