"Lyubov Andreyevna lived abroad for five years—I don’t know what she’s become now… She’s a good person. Easy, simple. I remember when I was about fifteen, my late father—back then he sold goods here in the village shop—hit me in the face with his fist; blood ran from my nose… We went together into the yard for some reason, and he was drunk. Lyubov Andreyevna—still young, so thin—led me to the washbasin, in this very room, the nursery. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said, ‘little man, it’ll heal up before the wedding…’
For older school age.