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“Without a word of reproach, Ivan Grigoryevich looked with alert, sad curiosity into Pinegin's eyes. And just for one second—but not for two—Pinegin felt that he could sacrifice everything.
He could sacrifice his decorations and honors, his dacha, his position of power and authority, his beautiful wife, his brilliant sons now studying nuclear physics—anything not to sense the look of those eyes on him.

'Well, Pinegin, all the best!' said Ivan. And he walked off toward the railway station.”