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A little brass basin dangled above the threshold; and looking through the glass I saw the master of the establishment shaving a fat-faced neighbour.
After this, I saw the fat-faced traveling man but twice, and both times casually. At supper he had a small table to himself in one corner of the room; and the following morning, when I went out to lay siege to my new world, he was smoking in the hotel office and again buried in a newspaper.
Was she an elderly, sharp-faced creature; was she a vapid, fat-faced creature, or a young and pleasing creature? And when I had asked myself these questions, I snubbed myself for taking the trouble to think about the matter, and then I began wondering again.
It was Penrod who spoke first. "What number you go to?" "Me? What number do I go to?" said the stranger, contemptuously. "I don't go to NO number in vacation!" "I mean when it ain't." "Third," returned the fat-faced boy. "I got 'em ALL scared in THAT school." "What of?" innocently asked Penrod, to whom "the Third" in a distant part of town was undiscovered country. "What of?
Then Konev, myself, the two women, and the fat-faced young fellow are led away towards the outskirts of the village, and allotted an empty hut with broken-down walls and a cracked window. "No going out will be permitted," says the Cossack who has conducted us thither. "Else you will be arrested." "Then give us a morsel of bread," Konev says with a stammer.
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