"If you have decided to get married, I can't stop you, of course," she began, in a ghastly undertone, as she crouched to gather up the fragments of the glass and to wipe the floor.
"Decided to get married?" I interrupted her. "Where on earth did you get that? What 'trap' are you talking about, Dora?"
She made no answer. I continued to protest my innocence. Finally, when she had removed the broken glass, she said: "It's no use pretending you don't know anything about it. It won't do you any good. You have been very foxy about it, but you made a break, and there you are! You think you are very clever. If you were you wouldn't let your shadchen [note] know where you live—"
Oh, I see," I said, with a hearty laugh. "Has he been here?" And I gave way to another guffaw
Shadchen was a conspiracy name for a man who would bring an employer together with cloak-makers who were willing to cheat the union. The one who performed these services for me was one of my own "hands." He was thoroughly dishonest, but he possessed a gentle disposition and a certain gift of expression. This gave him power over his shopmates. He was their "shop chairman" and a member of their "price committee." He was the only man in my employ who actually received the full union price. In addition to this, I paid him his broker's commission for every new man he furnished me, and various sums as bribes pure and simple
I explained it all to Dora. The ardor with which I spoke and the details of my dealings with the shadchen must have made my explanation convincing, for she accepted it at once
"You're not fooling me, are you?" she asked, piteously, yet in a tone of immense relief.
"Strike me dumb if—"
"'S-sh! Don't curse yourself," she said, clapping her hand over my mouth. "I can't bear to hear it. I believe you. If you knew what I have gone through!"
"Poor, poor child!" I said, kissing her soft white fingers tenderly. "Poor, poor baby! How could you think of such a thing! There is only one bride for me in all the world, and that is my own Dora darling."