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Artzybashev, Mikhail Petrovich, 1878-1927

"Sanine"

"
"Yes, that's right," said Tanaroff, with assumed carelessness of
manner, though blushing for very shame, "I told him to do that
yesterday ... the woman had been worrying me for a whole week, don't
you know."
Two red spots appeared on Sarudine's scrupulously shaven cheeks, and
the muscles of his face worked convulsively. He silently resumed his
walk up and down the room and suddenly stopped in front of Tanaroff.
"Look here," he said, and his voice trembled with anger, "I should be
much obliged if, in future, you would leave me to manage my own money-
affairs."
Tanaroff's face flushed crimson.
"H'm! A trifle like that!" he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
"It is not a question of trifles," continued Sarudine, bitterly, "it is
the principle of the thing. May I ask what right you ..."
"I ..." stammered Tanaroff.
"Pray don't explain," said Sarudine, in the same cutting tone. "I must
beg you not to take such a liberty again."
Tanaroff's lips quivered. He hung his head, and nervously fingered his
mother-of-pearl cigarette-holder. After a moment's pause, Sarudine
turned sharply round, and, jingling the keys loudly, opened the drawer
of his bureau.


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