Her mind was not quite set at ease. She interrupted him.
"But the style, Abramka, the style! You can't possibly guess what the
latest fashion is abroad."
"Why shouldn't I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin? In
Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates. I will telegraph to
him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French
models. The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I
swear to you I will copy any dress he sends. Mrs. Shaldin can't
possibly have a dress like that."
"All very well and good, and that's what we'll do. Still we must wait
until Mrs. Shaldin comes back. Don't you see, Abramka, I must have
exactly the same style that she has? Can't you see, so that nobody can
say that she is in the latest fashion?"
At this point Semyonov entered the room cautiously. He was wearing the
oddest-looking jacket and the captain's old boots. His hair was
rumpled, and his eyes were shining suspiciously. There was every sign
that he had used the renewal of friendship with the doctor's men as a
pretext for a booze.
"I had to stand them some brandy, your Excellency," he said saucily,
but catching his mistress's threatening look, he lowered his head
guiltily.
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