"Don't bother: I am busy," he said, and applied his plane to the leg of a stool.
"But this is more important than stools. How would you like to get married?"
Shosshi's face became like a peony.
"Don't make laughter," he said.
"But I mean it. You are twenty-four years old and ought to have a wife and four children by this time."
"But I don't want a wife and four children," said Shosshi.
"No, of course not. I don't mean a widow. It is a maiden I have in my eye."
"Nonsense, what maiden would have me?" said Shosshi, a note of eagerness mingling with the diffidence of the words.
"What maiden? Gott in Himmel! A hundred. A fine, strong, healthy young man like you, who can make a good living!"
Shosshi put down his plane and straightened himself. There was a moment of silence. Then his frame collapsed again into a limp mass. His head drooped over his left shoulder. "This is all foolishness you talk, the maidens make mock."