At the metro Petrogradskaya yesterday, an intelligent lady with aristocratic scales, with a diligent laying of slightly touched gray hair, with blue shadows on heavy eyelids, takes a number on the phone and speaks to it with a beautiful deep voice:
Hello Marina Leonidovna. This is Alla Evgenievna... Yes, I wanted to ask you, but it was uncomfortable with everyone. Marina Leonidovna, don’t you think Peter was upset? No, it didn’t seem, sadly... He’s just whipped, Marina Leonidovna!