A farce: Agent of freight transport company and of fire insurance company.
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Any one can write a play which might be produced.
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A country house. Winter. N., ill, sits in his room. In the evening there suddenly arrives from the railway station a stranger Z., a young girl, who introduces herself and says that she has come to look after the invalid. He is perplexed, frightened, he refuses; then Z. says that at any rate she will stay the night. A day passes, two, and she goes on living there. She has an unbearable temper, she poisons one's existence.
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A private room in a restaurant. A rich man Z., tying his napkin round his neck, touching the sturgeon with his fork: "At least I'll have a snack before I die"—and he has been saying this for a long time, daily.
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By his remarks on Strindberg and literature generally L.L. Tolstoi reminds one very much of Madam Loukhmav.[1]
[Footnote 1: L.L. Tolstoi was Leo Nicolaievitch'a son, Madame Loukhmav a tenth rate woman-writer.]