"Felizata Segarovna does that on purpose. Whatever sweets come on the table, she always swallows the lot."
Alexandra Fedorovna Travkina used to come with her husband. She was tall and thin, with a large nose and short red hair. She had big eyes and a piping voice, and blew her nose frequently with a sound like the tearing of calico. Her husband suffered from a disease of the throat, and spoke in consequence in a whisper. But he would talk incessantly by the hour, and the sounds that came from his mouth were like the rustling of dry straw. He was very well-to-do, had served in the Excise Department, and was a director of a flourishing benevolent society. Both he and his wife spoke of little else but charitable institutions.
"Just think what has just happened in our society!"
"Ah, yes, yes. Just imagine!" cried his wife.
"An appeal has been presented for assistance."
"I tell you, these charitable institutions ruin the people——"
"A woman writes, her husband is dead. She has three children. They are starving and she is always ill."
"The old story, you know——"
"They were to get three roubles——"
"But, for my part, I don't believe in this widow," cried Alexandra Fedorovna, triumphantly.