'I should like to have a few words of explanation with you, Fyodor Fedoritch.'
'By all means, with pleasure,' responded the good-natured fellow. 'I must own I was expecting such an explanation. Your behaviour to me has been so strange, and I think, on my side, I have not deserved... at least, I had no reason to expect... But won't you sit down? Wouldn't you like a pipe?'
Lutchkov sat down. There was a certain weariness perceptible in his movements. He stroked his moustaches and lifted his eyebrows.
'I say, Fyodor Fedoritch,' he began at last; 'why did you keep it up with me so long?...'
'How do you mean?'
'Why did you pose as such... a disinterested being, when you were just such another as all the rest of us sinners all the while?'
'I don't understand you.... Can I have wounded you in some way?...'
'You don't understand me... all right. I'll try and speak more plainly. Just tell me, for instance, openly, Have you had a liking for the Perekatov girl all along, or is it a case of sudden passion?'
'I should prefer, Avdey Ivanitch, not to discuss with you my relations with Marya Sergievna,' Kister responded coldly.
'Oh, indeed! As you please. Only you'll kindly allow me to believe that you've been humbugging me.'