your best interests at heart,' soothed Iliosovy.

Curses!

Those words!

Those stupid words...

Those stupid words and Iliosovy's plaintive face...

'Why don't you strip vestments and loll next to me,' he said.

'I'm too tired,' I whined.

Iliosovy crinkled his forehead.

Explained I: 'Comrade, the night was long, and I must catch rest. I'm naught in condition to pander your requests.'

'Then seize thy rest,' saith hisself. 'But doth naught forget thy cause of distress.'

'Methinks distress is triggered by thee breathing down me neck!' I snapped.

'Woe! Thee blatant disrespect! What hath I doth to merit thee contempt?'

'Bah,' spat I, brushing past Iliosovy. 'Leave me to suffer in the present tense.'

'Then I shall dispense. But hear me now: Come the morrow, our discussion will recommence.'

I opened the bedroom door and said: 'Save your breath. Medvelov asked if I'dIliosovy asked through a sneer.

'I don't know the particulars,' I said with a straight face. 'He mentioned a vague remedy when we met, but insisted it be a cure capable of heralding a swift end.'

'You believe him?'

'He detests this foolishness as much as anyone.'

No sooner had I finished the statement when Nekabov bounded into the cottage; echoing Iliosovy's sentiment, the editor declared: 'My trip was most unpleasant, and it wasn't because of the cold! I pictured the woods crawling with mestnaya!'

Once again, I attempted to smother apprehension...

So, Nekabov turned to another bothersome subject: my novel.

'I'm anxious to see your progress,' he said. 'How is the draft proceeding?'

'Piecemeal,' I said. 'Distraction hath made concentration difficult.'

'All the more to end our association with the _distraction_ ,' Iliosovy chirped.

Again, I fibbed: