"There's something working upon you, Jennie," said Platonov
quietly.
Caressingly, she just barely drew her fingers over his arm.
"Don't pay any attention. Just so ... our womanish affairs ... It
won't be interesting to you."
But immediately, turning to Tamara, she passionately and rapidly
began saying something in an agreed jargon, which presented a wild
mixture out of the Hebrew, Tzigani and Roumanian tongues and the
cant words of thieves and horse-thieves.
"Don't try to put anything over on the fly guy, the fly guy is
next," Tamara cut her short and with a smile indicated the
reporter with her eyes.
Platonov had, in fact, understood. Jennie was telling with
indignation that during this day and night, thanks to the influx
of a cheap public, the unhappy Pashka had been taken into a room
more than ten times--and all by different men. Only just now she
had had a hysterical fit, ending in a faint. And now, scarcely
having brought Pashka back to consciousness and braced her up on
valerian drops in a glass of spirits, Emma Edwardovna had again
sent her into the drawing room.
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