“Are you looking for a shidduch?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, proud, but crushed.
“You know I charge five dollars for the stepping in,” he bargained.
It got cold by my heart. It wasn’t only to give him the five dollars, nearly a whole week’s wages, but his thick-skinness for being only after the money. But I couldn’t help myself—I was like in his fists hypnotized. And I gave him the five dollars.
I let myself go to the door, but he called me back.
“Wait, wait. Come in and sit down. I didn’t question you yet.”
“About what?”
“I got to know how much money you got saved before I can introduce you to anybody.”
“Oh—h—h! Is it only depending on the money?”
“Certainly. No move in this world without money,” he said, taking a pinch of snuff in his black, hairy fingers and sniffing it up in his nose.