Vasya smiled.
A silence followed.
"Phew! What a horrid pen," cried Shumkov, flinging it on the table in vexation. He took another.
"Vasya! listen! one word...."
"Well, make haste, and for the last time."
"Have you a great deal left to do?"
"Ah, brother!" Vasya frowned, as though there could be nothing more terrible and murderous in the whole world than such a question. "A lot, a fearful lot."
"Do you know, I have an idea——"
"What?"
"Oh, never mind, never mind; go on writing."