"You don't say so?"

"Well, yes or no?" asked Mahin, taking the pen and smoothing the coupon
with the fingers of his left hand.

"But it is wrong."

"Nonsense!"

"Nonsense, indeed," thought Mitia, and again his father's hard words
came back to his memory. "Scoundrel! As you called me that, I might as
well be it." He looked into Mahin's face. Mahin looked at him, smiling
with perfect ease.

"Well?" he said.

"All right. I don't mind."

Mahin carefully wrote the unit in front of 2.50.

"Now let us go to the shop across the road; they sell photographers'
materials there. I just happen to want a frame--for this young person
here." He took out of his pocket a photograph of a young lady with large
eyes, luxuriant hair, and an uncommonly well-developed bust.

"Is she not sweet? Eh?"

"Yes, yes . . . of course . . ."

"Well, you see.--But let us go."