"Yes, only I live with my aunt. My mother is a sow. She's a lewd woman, and lives with a butcher for her support. I don't go to her. The butcher won't let me. Once I went there, and he kicked me on the back. Ugh!"
Zarubin's little mouse ears quivered, his narrow eyes rolled queerly, he tugged at the black down on his upper lip with a convulsive movement of his fingers, and throbbed all over with excitement.
"Why are you such a quiet fellow? You ought to be bolder, or else they'll crush you with work. I was afraid at first, too, so they rode all over me. Come, let's be friends for the rest of our lives!"
Though Yevsey did not like Zarubin and was intimidated by his extreme agility, he replied:
"All right. Let's be friends."
"Your hand. There, it's done! So to-morrow we'll go to the girls?"
"No, I won't go."
They did not notice the Smokestack coming up to them.
"Well, Yakov, who will do whom?" he growled.
"We're not fighting," said Zarubin, sullenly and disrespectfully.