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DIAMONDS TO SIT ON

remarked Bender. ‘ What do you think you’re doing ? ’ ‘ What else am I to do ? They won’t let us in with­ out a ticket.’ ‘ Pussy, you’re a fool! Don’t you know that in every well-arranged theatre there are two windows— one for lovers and people with money and one for the rest of us who want a word with the manager ? ’ There were a few people standing before the first window, but there was quite a long queue in front of the other. Young men were in the queue holding notes from members of the caste, producers, newspaper offices, theatrical costiuniers, the head of the district militia, and from people closely associated with the theatre, such as film critics and various educational authorities. Bender forced his way into the queue by pushing people to one side and shouting : ‘ I only want to make an inquiry. You see, I haven’t even taken my goloshes off yet.’ He managed to get up to the window and pushed his head in through the opening. The manager was working like a steam engine, and beads of perspira­ tion were running down his fat face. The telephone was persistently ringing. ' Be quick ! ’ he shouted to Bender. ‘ Where’s your slip ? ’ ' Two seats,’ said Bender quietly. ' Stalls.’ ‘ For whom ? ’ ‘ For me.’ ‘ But who are you ? Why should I give you seats ? ’ ‘ You know me, don’t you ? ’ ‘No, I don’t seem to recognize you,’ said the manager. But the stranger’s eyes were so honest and clear that the manager wrote out a slip for two seats in the seventh row of the stalls. All sorts of people come here,’ said the manager to himself, and goodness knows where they come from.
 * How I detest these petty provincial simpletons ! ’