But suddenly she heard the rustle of a skirt, and with it the sound of heart-rending, smothered sobbing, and felt arms about her neck.
Kitty was on her knees before her.
"Dolinka, I am so, so wretched!" she whispered penitently.
And the sweet face covered with tears hid itself in Darya Alexandrovna's skirt.
As though tears were the indispensable oil, without which the machinery of mutual confidence could not run smoothly between the two sisters, the sisters after their tears talked, not of what was uppermost in their minds, but, though they talked of outside matters, they understood each other.