Russian Cynicism

I.

“My dear Kostya, you’ve finally returned to me!”

Kitty comes trotting down the steps of the train station, rushing into Levin’s waiting arms.

“It’s been but four days, my dear.”

Levin’s wraps his arms around her slim waist with a passion that belies his nonchalance. Gently resting in each others’ embrace, Levin’s half-open eyes lazily trace the lines of the orange lace ribbon snaking through Kitty’s braids.

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