But she insisted with an iron-clad finality. I argued
again, entreated, raved, all to no purpose
"I'll never come close to you. All I want is to be able to see you, to
live in the same house with you."
"Don't be tearing my heart to pieces," she said. "It is torn badly
enough as it is. Do as I say, Levinsky." "Don't you want to see me
at all?" "Oh, it's cruel of you to ask questions like that. You have
no heart, Levinsky. It's just because I am crazy to see you that you
have got to move."
"Don't you want me even to call at your house?" I asked, with an
ironical smile, as though I did not take the matter seriously
"Well, that would look strange. Call sometimes, not often, though,
and never when Margolis is out."
"Oh, I shall commit suicide," I snarled
"Oh, well. It isn't as bad as all that."
"I will. I certainly will," I said, knowing that I was talking
nonsense
"Don't torment me, Levinsky. Don't sprinkle salt over my wound.
Take pity on me. Do as I wish and let the tooth be pulled out with
as little pain as possible.
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