"There's no one to measure what's left of the
sausage," said Lotta, instigating him to new feats.
"Ain't there now?" said Souchey, responding to the sound of the
trumpet. "I always thought she had the devil's own eye in looking after
what was used in the kitchen."
"The devil himself winks sometimes," said Lotta, cutting another half-
inch off from the unconsumed fragment, and picking the skin from the
meat with her own fair fingers. Hitherto Souchey had been regardless of
any such niceness in his eating, the skin having gone with the rest;
but now he thought that the absence of the outside covering and the
touch of Lotta's fingers were grateful to his appetite.
"Souchey," said Lotta, when he had altogether done, and had turned his
stool round to the kitchen fire, "where do you think Nina would go if
she were to marry--a Jew?" There was an abrupt solemnity in the manner
of the question which at first baffled the man, whose breath was heavy
with the comfortable repletion which had been bestowed upon him.
"Where would she go to?" he said, repeating Lotta's words.
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