"Mind how you step, wretch!" she exclaims.
"All right, but you needn't make so much noise about it. You see how dark it is, and I—"
"You ought to have struck a match, then."
"I possess but a quarter of a match, for matches are not over-plentiful, and even if I did catch hold of you no great harm can have been done. For instance, when your husband used to beat you he must have hurt you far worse than I. By the way, DID he beat you?"
"What business is that of yours?"
"None; only, I am curious to know. Surely a woman like you—"
"See here. Do not dare to touch me, or I—"
"Or you what?"
There ensues a prolonged altercation amid which I can hear epithets of increasing acerbity and opprobrium being applied; until the woman from Riazan exclaims hoarsely:
"Oh, you coward of a man, take that!"