Paklin shook his head.
'That's, perhaps, meant for me. . . . So be it! I've deserved the reproach. But I say, my new acquaintance, defer for a time the gloomy reflections your bilious temperament inspires in you! And most of all———'
'And you, sir, my new acquaintance,' Markelov interrupted emphatically, 'let me tell you . . . by way of a word of warning, I never have the faintest taste for joking at any time, and especially not to-day! And what do you know about my temperament? It strikes me that we've not long─that it's the first time we've set eyes on each other.'
'There, there, don't be cross, and don't swear. I'll believe you without that,' said Paklin, and turning to Solomin: 'Oh, you,' he exclaimed, 'you whom the keen-sighted Fimushka herself called a cool man─and there certainly is something refreshing about you─say, had I the slightest intention of doing anything unpleasant to any one, or of joking unseasonably? I only suggested going with you to Golushkin; and besides, I'm an inoffensive creature. It's not my fault that Mr. Markelov has a bilious complexion.'
Solomin shrugged up first one shoulder, then the other; it was a habit of his when he could not make up his mind at once what to answer.
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