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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"A Cigarette-Maker's Romance"


"Look here, Dumnoff," answered the Cossack, his bright eyes gleaming. "I
want that money. You know me, and you had better give it to me without
making any trouble."
Dumnoff seemed confused by the sharpness of the demand, and hesitated.
"You seem in a great hurry," he said, with an awkward laugh, "I suppose
you mean to give it back to me?"
"You shall have it at the rate of a mark a day in the next five work days.
You will get your pay this evening and that will be quite enough for you
to get drunk with to-night."
"That is true," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully. "Well, take it," he added,
slipping the money into the other's outstretched palm.
"Thank you," said the Cossack. "You are not so bad as you look, Dumnoff.
Good-night." He was gone in a moment.
Dumnoff stared at the door through which he had disappeared.
"After all," he muttered, discontentedly, "he could not have taken it by
force. I wonder why I was such a fool as to give it to him!"
"I tell you," said Akulina to her husband as Schmidt passed through the
outer shop, "that he will end by costing us so much in money lent, and
squandered in charity, that the business will go to dust and feathers! I
am only a weak woman, Christian Gregorovitch, but I have four children--"
The Cossack heard no more, for he closed the street door behind him and
returned to Vjera's side. She was standing as he had left her, absorbed in
the contemplation of the financial crisis.
"Five more," said he, giving her the silver.


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