"Well, was it nice?" she asked, coming out to meet him with a
penitent and meek expression.

"Just as usual," he answered, seeing at a glance that she was in
one of her good moods. He was used by now to these transitions,
and he was particularly glad to see it today, as he was in a
specially good humor himself.

"What do I see? Come, that's good!" he said, pointing to the
boxes in the passage.

"Yes, we must go. I went out for a drive, and it was so fine I
longed to be in the country. There's nothing to keep you, is
there?"

"It's the one thing I desire. I'll be back directly, and we'll
talk it over; I only want to change my coat. Order some tea."

And he went into his room.

There was something mortifying in the way he had said "Come,
that's good," as one says to a child when it leaves off being
naughty, and still more mortifying was the contrast between her
penitent and his self-confident tone; and for one instant she
felt the lust of strife rising up in her again, but making an
effort she conquered it, and met Vronsky as good-humoredly as
before.

When he came in she told him, partly repeating phrases she had
prepared beforehand, how she had spent the day, and her plans for
going away.