.. what-you-may-call-it... well,
in a word, into a house of ill-fame, to express it in lofty style.
Now the parents are searching for her through the police. Ve-ery
well. She gets into one place after another, from the fifth into
the tenth... Finally the trail is picked up with you, and most
important of all--think of it!--in my district! What can I do?"
"Mr. Kerbesh, but she is of age," says the proprietress.
"They are of age," confirms Isaiah Savvich. "They gave an
acknowledgment, that it was of their own will..."
Emma Edwardovna pronounces in a bass, with cool accurance:
"Honest to God, she's the same here as an own daughter."
"But that's not what I am talking about," the inspector frowns in
vexation. "Just consider my position... Why, this is duty. Lord,
there's no end of unpleasantnesses without that!"
The proprietress suddenly arises, shuffles in her slippers to the
door, and says, winking to the inspector with a sleepy,
expressionless eye of faded blue:
"Mr. Kerbesh, I would ask you to have a look at our alterations.
We want to enlarge the place a bit.
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