"Do you find it interesting?"
"Yes, I like it."
He walked to her side trying for some reason to lift his feet higher; by which walking became awkward. They sat down at a table, and called for beer. Yakov made jokes, while Makarov whistled softly and regarded the public with his screwed-up eyes.
"Have you any companions?" asked Olga.
"No, not one."
"That's what I thought at once. I thought you were a solitary person," she said smiling. "Lonely people have a peculiar gait. Altogether there's something noticeable about them. How old are you?"
"I'll soon be nineteen."
"Look, there's a spy!" Makarov exclaimed quietly.
Yevsey jumped to his feet, but quickly resumed his seat, and looked at Olga to see if she had observed his involuntary movement of alarm. He could not make out, however. She was silently and attentively examining Melnikov's dark figure, which slowly moved through the passageway between the tables as if with an effort. Melnikov walked with bent neck and eyes fastened on the ground. His arms hung at his side as if dislocated.
"He walks like Judas to the aspen tree," said Yakov in a subdued voice.