"As far as I can make out, you don't care for tradesmen?"
"Not much."
"Why?"
"Because they live on the work of others," she explained, speaking very distinctly.
Ilya threw up his head, and his brows contracted. The words did not only astonish him, but pained him; and she said them so simply, so much as if it were a matter of course.
"But—excuse me—that isn't true!" he said loudly, after a pause.
Her face twitched and she blushed.
"How much does this ribbon cost you?" she asked coldly and sternly.
"Ribbon?—this ribbon?—Seventeen kopecks the arshin."
"And how do you sell it?"