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"Is that the way to do things?" He got up, put on his dressing-gown, and staggering, half asleep, flopped in his slippers to the shop. "What . . . is it?" he asked Obtyosov. "Give me . . . give me four pennyworth of peppermint lozenges." Sniffing continually, yawning, dropping asleep as he moved, and knocking his knees against the counter, the chemist went to the shelf and reached down the jar.
Ah, I remember. . . . I came here last week to buy some castor-oil. There's a chemist here with a sour face and the jawbone of an ass! Such a jawbone, my dear fellow! It must have been a jawbone like that Samson killed the Philistines with." "M'yes," said the big one in a bass voice. "The pharmacist is asleep. And his wife is asleep too. She is a pretty woman, Obtyosov." "I saw her.
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