remember . . . But . . . the maid . . . what is she standing there for?"
Finkel suddenly snorted like a steam-engine, straight into her mouth, and said:
"I don't advise you to have a stopping . . . Anyhow the tooth is quite useless."
Again he picked at the tooth for a little, and soiled Vanda's lips and gums with his tobacco-stained fingers. Again he held his breath and dived into her mouth with something cold . . .
Vanda suddenly felt a terrible pain, shrieked and seized Finkel's hand . . .
"Never mind . . ." he murmured. "Don't be frightened . . . This tooth isn't any use."
And his tobacco-stained fingers, covered with blood, held up the extracted tooth before her eyes. The maid came forward and put a bowl to her lips.
"Rinse your mouth with cold water at home," said Finkel. "That will make the blood stop."
He stood before her in the attitude of a man impatient to be left alone at last.
"Good-bye . . ." she said, turning to the door.
"H'm! And who's to pay me for the work?" Finkel asked laughingly.
"Ah . . . yes!" Vanda recollected, blushed and gave the dentist the rouble she had got for the turquoise ring.
When she came into the street she felt still more ashamed than before, but she was not ashamed of her poverty any more. Nor did she notice any more that she hadn't an elaborate
