“What question?”
“As to the pleasure I must have felt as a fond husband, upon opening the desk.”
“Your feelings are no business of mine!” said the other bitterly, rising and commencing to stride up and down the room.
“I wouldn't mind betting that you are thinking at this very moment: ‘What a pig of a fellow he is to parade his shame like this!’ Ha-ha! dear me, what a squeamish gentleman you are to be sure!”
“Not at all. I was thinking nothing of the sort; on the contrary, I consider that you are—besides being more or less intoxicated—so put out by the death of the man who has injured you that you are not yourself. There's nothing surprising in it at all! I quite understand why you wish Bagantoff were still alive, and am ready to respect your annoyance, but——”
“And pray why do you suppose that I wish Bagantoff were alive?”
“Oh, that's your affair!”
“I'll take my oath you are thinking of a duel!”
“Devil take it, sir!” cried Velchaninoff, obliged to hold himself tighter than ever. “I was thinking that you, like every respectable person in similar circumstances, would act openly and candidly and straightforwardly, and not humiliate yourself with comical antics and silly grimaces, and ridiculous complaints and detestable innuendoes, which only heap greater shame upon you. I say I was thinking you would act like a respectable person.”
“Ha-ha-ha!—but perhaps I am not a respectable person!”