Anya

Morning. You walk past the empty house of the Ignatievs, who recently moved to the city of Penza — the capital of the province — for work after their breadwinner perished in the Russo-Japanese War. Finally, you meet your acquaintance and classmate from evening school. Adjusting her scarf and brushing dust off her skirt, she says: My father let me go out with you again — all the neighbors are whispering that he spoils me too much. But I... glancing around and lowering her voice think he just understands that the world is changing. These factories, these machines... they’re not just there for nothing. And we shouldn’t stay on the sidelines. You feel it too, don’t you? That things can’t go on like they used to? She looks at you with a sly smile, waiting for your response.