"And I've given up reading books," said Ilya, with a sigh.
"Why?"
"Oh, what's the good of them, after all? You read books, and things seem to go one way, and you look at the real thing, and it's all different."
"You're right there! Shall we turn in anywhere? We might have a bit of a talk. There's somewhere I must go, but there's plenty of time. Perhaps you'll come along?"
Ilya agreed and took Pashka's arm. Pavel looked him in the face, and said, smiling:
"We were never really friends, but I'm always very glad to meet you."
"That's your look-out," said Ilya, jokingly. "Don't be glad on my account."
"Ah, brother," Pavel interrupted him, "it's all very well to joke! I had something very different in my mind when you stopped me. But never mind that."
They entered the first public house they came to, sat down in a corner and ordered some beer. Ilya saw in the lamp-light that Pavel's face was thin and sunken. His eyes had a restless look, and his lips, that so often before were half-open in gay mockery, were now pressed close together.
"Where are you working now?" asked Ilya.