Pavel Ivanitch turned crimson and bent over his plate.  “Silly jokes,” he growled.

“But what could I do?  Tell me that. . . .  We had to scrub the rooms out this evening, and how could we get you out of the house?  There was no other way of getting you out. . . .  But don’t be angry, stupid. . . .  I didn’t want you to be dull in the arbour, so I sent the same letter to Mitya too!  Mitya, have you been to the arbour?”

Mitya grinned and left off glaring with hatred at his rival.