... Around a samovar, around a real samovar, out of which the steam was
rising as out of an engine--the glass on the lamp had even grown dim,
there was so much steam. And the cups were the same, blue outside and
white inside, very pretty little cups, a wedding present. My wife's
sister gave them--she is a very kind and good woman.
"Is it possible they are all whole?" asked I, incredulously, mixing the
sugar in my glass with a clean silver spoon.
"One was broken," said my wife, absently; she was holding the tap open
just then and the water was running out easily and prettily.