"Why this new way, then?" I said, rather impatiently. "You are dearer than ever to me, Levinsky. Tell me to jump into fire, and I will. But—can't we love each other and be good?"
"What are you talking about, Dora? What has got into you? Do you know what you are to me now?" I demanded, melodramatically
I made another attempt at kissing her, but was repulsed again
"Not now, anyway, my loved one," she said, entreatingly. "Let a few days pass. You don't want me to feel bad, do you, dearest?"
I looked sheepish. I was convinced that it was merely a passing mood
[note: shadchen]: Marriage broker, match-maker
CHAPTER XVIII
NEXT Monday, when I was ready to go to my place of business, Dora left the house, pitcher in hand, before I rose from the breakfast-table. She was going for milk, but a side-glance which she cast at the floor in my direction as she turned to shut the door behind her told me that she wanted to see me in the street. After letting some minutes pass I put on my overcoat and hat, bade Max a studiously casual good-by, and departed
I awaited her on the stoop. Presently she emerged from the grocery in the adjoining building
"Could you be free at 4 o'clock this afternoon?" she asked, ascending the few steps, and pausing by my side. "I want to have a talk with you.