"I am going to bed," said Yevsey rising from his chair.
Rayisa did not answer, and did not look at him. Then he stepped to the door, and repeated in a lower voice:
"Good-night. I am going to sleep."
"Go, I'm not keeping you. Go."
Yevsey understood that Rayisa felt nauseated. He wanted to tell her something.
"Can I do anything for you?" he inquired, stopping at the door.
She looked into his face with her weary sleepy eyes.
"No, nothing," she answered quietly after a pause.
She walked up and down in the room for a long time. Yevsey heard the rustle of her skirt and the doleful sound of her song, and the clinking of the bottles. Occasionally she coughed dully.
Rayisa's composed words stood motionless in Yevsey's heart, "I think you are going to choke yourself." They lay upon him heavily, pressing like stones.