The bricklayer said coarsely:
"You are going on for fifty. You had better be careful, or you will find that your loose way of life will leave a bitter taste."
"You are shameless, Ephimushka!" sighed Grigori Shishlin.
And it seemed to me that the handsome fellow envied the success of the humpback.
Osip looked round on us all from under his level silver brows, and said jestingly:
"Every Mashka has her fancies. One will love cups and spoons, another buckles and ear-rings, but all Mashkas will be grandmothers in time."
Shishlin was married, but his wife was living in the country, so he also cast his eyes on the floor-scrubbers. They were all of them easy of approach. All of them "earned a bit" to add to their income, and they regarded this method of earning money in that poverty-stricken area as simply as they would have regarded any other kind of work. But the handsome workman never approached the women. He just gazed at them from afar with a peculiar expression, as if he were pitying some one—himself or them. But when they began to sport with him and tempt him, he laughed bashfully and went away.
"Well, you—"
"What's the matter with you, you fool?" asked Ephimushka, amazed. "Do you mean to say you are going to lose the chance?"
"I am a married man," Grigori reminded him.