“You fool! Where are you climbing?!“—a persistent, indignant whisper from her friend caught Dunya. She hurriedly took off her glasses and tried to put them away in their case. Her fingers were trembling, so it didn’t go right away.
“I know where I’m climbing,” Dunya objected quietly but firmly. “He’ll swallow you in a second! He’ll break you!” Annyuta whispered in despair. “You’re a tender little violet. And he... He’s a beast!”
“Let it be! Let it be, Annyuta! I have no other way out!” Dunya exhaled, fighting back tears, and then timidly asked: “Anya, how do I look?”
“For me it’s unusual,” her friend answered gloomily, “and it’s not certain that this—” the girl shook her head, indicating the right direction—“will bite. As far as I’m concerned, it’s better if he doesn’t even notice you.”