"Well, let's go."
"But the books?" exclaimed the other.
"Let's go. I won't buy any books here."
The red-bearded man looked at him, then at the master, his small eyes winking rapidly. Then he walked to the door, and out into the street.
"You don't want the books?" demanded Raspopov.
Yevsey realized by his tone that the old man was surprised.
"I don't," answered the customer, his eyes fixed upon the face of the master.
Raspopov shrank. He went to his chair, and suddenly said with a wave of his hand in an unnaturally loud voice, which was new to Yevsey:
"As you please, of course. Still—excuse me, I don't understand."
"What don't you understand?" asked the stooping man, smiling.