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drawing further back into the chair.
'He doesn't recognise me! He doesn't recognise me! Don't you see? '
sobbed the girl.
'Kindly stop crying in my office!' said the striped suit irritably,
stretching out its sleeve for a fresh pile of paper.
'No, I can't look, I can't look! ' cried Anna Richardovna and ran back
into her office, followed, like a bullet, by the accountant.
'Just imagine--I was sitting here,' began Anna Richardovna trembling
with horror and clutching Vassily Stepanovich's sleeve, ' when in came a
cat. A great black animal as big as Behemoth. Naturally I shooed it out and
it went, but then a fat man came in who also had a face like a cat, said "
Do you always say ' shoo ' to visitors?" and went straight in to Prokhor
Petrovich. So I shouted " What d'you mean by going in there --have you gone
crazy? " But the cheeky brute marched straight in to Prokhor Petrovich and
sat down in the chair facing him. Well, Prokhor is the nicest man alive, but
he's nervous. He lost his temper. He works like a trojan, but he's apt to be
nervy and he just flared up. " Why have you come in here without being
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