.

.

." I remarked, reflecting upon my plan of attack against my new friend.
"No," he explained with sadness, "the Soviet does not furnish trousers.
They tell me they also go without trousers.

And my trousers are absolutely worn out.

Look at them." With these words he threw back the corner of his overcoat and I was astonished how he could keep himself inside these trousers, for they had such large holes that they were more of a net than trousers, a net through which a small shark could have slipped.
"Sell me," he whispered, with a question in his voice.
"I cannot, for I need them myself," I answered decisively.
He reflected for a few minutes and afterward, approaching me, said: "Let us go out doors and talk.