'Poor man, indeed! He's an outrageous, horrible, sinister man.'
'Besides, what am I to do about shaving? You know perfectly well that there are no barbers within fifteen miles of this house.'
'Shave yourself, then.'
'But I can't shave myself.'
'What sort of a man are you, if you can't even shave yourself?'
'No, I can't shave myself- so what am I to do?'
'Grow a beard, then.'
'Please, for goodness sake! I shouldn't be able to sleep a wink.'
She was silent for a time, and then, in a voice in which there seemed to be an echo of despair, she cried: 'Well then, you refuse to do what I ask you — you refuse to do it.'
'But, Leda. .'