“Would you, please, tell me,” he began, irresistibly impelled to wound Sanine, “why you always talk as if you were teaching little children?”
Von Deitz, feeling uneasy at this speech, uttered something conciliatory, and rattled his spurs.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Sanine sharply, “why are you so angry?”
Yourii felt that his speech was discourteous, and that he ought not to go any farther, yet his wounded self-respect drove him to add:
“Such a tone is really most unpleasant.”
“It is my usual tone,” replied Sanine, partly annoyed, and partly anxious to appease the other.
“Well, it is not always a suitable one,” continued Yourii, raising his voice, “I really fail to see what gives you such assurance.”
“Probably the consciousness of being more intelligent than you are,” replied Sanine, now quite calm.
Yourii stood still, trembling from head to foot.
“Look here!” he exclaimed hoarsely.