Ostrov turned in his chair. He chuckled nervously and said:
“I’ve come to you, as you see. You evidently have lots of money, and I have little. Comment is needless, as the newspapers would say.”
“So that’s it! And suppose I refuse?” asked Trirodov.
Ostrov whistled sharply and looked insolently at Trirodov.
“Well, old chap,” he said rudely, “I don’t count on your permitting yourself such a stupid mistake.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” repeated Ostrov after him. “I think the facts must be as clear to you as to me, if not more so—and there’s nothing to be gained by the world getting wind of them.”
“I owe you nothing,” said Trirodov quietly. “I don’t understand why I should give you money. You’d only spend it recklessly—squander it most likely.”
“And do you spend it any more sensibly?” asked Ostrov with a malicious smile.
“If not more sensibly, at least with more reckoning,” retorted Trirodov. “In any case, I’m prepared to help you. Only I may as well tell you that I have little spare cash and that even if I had it I’d not give you much.”