"Nee, nee," roughly interposed the master-furrier, who had risen from his sofa in the excitement of the scene. "It is not beautiful not to live with one's wife." He paused to cough. "You must not put her to shame."
"It's she who puts me to shame." Emanuel turned to Rachel, who had let her work slip to the floor, and whose face had grown white and stern, and continued deprecatingly, "I never wanted her. They caught me by a trick."
"Don't talk to me," snapped Rachel, turning her back on him.
The woman looked at her suspiciously—the girl's beauty seemed to burst upon her for the first time. "He is my husband," she repeated, and made as if she would draw out the Cesubah again.
"Nee, nee, enough!" said the master-furrier curtly. "You are wasting our time. Your husband shall live with you, or he shall not work with me."
"You have deceived us, you rogue!" put in Flutter-Duck shrilly.
"Did I ever say I was a single man?" retorted Emanuel, shrugging his shoulders.
"There! He confesses it!" cried his wife in glee. "Come, Emanuel, love," and she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him passionately. "Do not be obstinate."
"I can't come now," he said, with sulky facetiousness. "Where are you living?"
She told him, and he said he would come when work was over.