He made no reply.
“Do you want some tea?”
“Afterwards,” he said with an effort, closing his eyes again and turning to the wall.
Nastasya stood over him.
“Perhaps he really is ill,” she said, turned and went out. She came in again at two o’clock with soup. He was lying as before. The tea stood untouched. Nastasya felt positively offended and began wrathfully rousing him.
“Why are you lying like a log?” she shouted, looking at him with repulsion.