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 When she returned to the drawing-room, not Vronsky, but Yashvin, looked at her. Vronsky was looking at Serozha's picture, which she had left lying on the table, and he did not hurry to greet her.

"We are old acquaintances," she said to him, going toward him and placing her small hand in Yashvin's enormous hand. He was all confusion, and this seemed odd, in a man of his gigantic form and decided features.

"We met last year at the races.—Give them to me," she said, snatching her son's photographs from Vronsky, who was looking at them, while her eyes blazed at him significantly. "Were the races successful this year? We saw the races at Rome on the Corso. But I believe you do not like life abroad," she added, with a fascinating smile. "I know you, and, although we seldom meet, I know your tastes."

"I am very sorry for that, because my tastes are generally bad," said Yashvin, biting the left side of his mustache.

After they had talked some little time, Yashvin, seeing Vronsky look at his watch, asked Anna if she expected to be in Petersburg long. Then, bending down his huge back, he picked up his kepi.

"Probably not long," she replied, in some confusion, and looked at Vronsky.

"Then we shall not meet again?" said Yashvin, getting up and addressing Vronsky. "Where are you going to dine?"

"Come and dine with me," said Anna, with decision; and, vexed because she could not conceal her confusion whenever her false situation became evident before a stranger, she blushed. "The table here is not good, but you will at least see each other. Of all Alekseï's messmates, you are his favorite."

"I should be delighted," replied Yashvin, with a smile which proved to Vronsky that he was very much pleased with Anna. Yashvin took leave of them and went away, while Vronsky lingered behind.

"Are you going too?" she asked him.