“Perhaps that is just my reason for wishing it now, that I have not always been on good terms with him.”

“Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements,” Trudolyubov jeered.

“We'll put your name down,” Simonov decided, addressing me. “Tomorrow at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris.”

“What about the money?” Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed.

“That will do,” said Trudolyubov, getting up. “If he wants to come so much, let him.”

“But it's a private thing, between us friends,” Ferfitchkin said crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat.