You are letting a little Slovak girl make a game of you." "I attend to my own business, all the same," growled Samuel.
"You do, Samuel, my boy, you do.

But you make me sorry for you, and ashamed." Samuel grunted, unwilling to acknowledge even partial defeat to the man whom he had beaten more than once in his own game.
"You desire to have that little girl, Samuel, and yet you are afraid of her." But Samuel only snarled and swore.
"You forget she is a Galician girl." "She is Russian," interposed Samuel, "and she is of good blood." "Good blood!" said Rosenblatt, showing his teeth like a snarling dog, "good blood! The blood of a murdering Nihilist jail bird!" "She is of good Russian blood," said Samuel with an ugly look in his face, "and he is a liar who says she is not." "Well, well," said Rosenblatt, turning from the point, "she is a Galician in everything else.

Her mother is a Galician, a low-bred Galician, and you treat the girl as if she were a lady.

This is not the Galician manner of wooing.

A bolder course is necessary.
You are a young man of good ability, a rising young man.