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Ficsur! [ sticks his head in.] Say, Ficsur,—Julie is going to have a baby.

Yes? What of it?

Nothing. [Suddenly.] Get out of here. ['' head is quickly withdrawn. re-*enters.'']

Has she gone?

Yes.

I might as well give you ten kronen in advance. [''Opens her purse. takes up his coffee cup.''] Here you are. [''She proffers some coins. ignores her.''] Why don't you take it?

[Very nonchalantly, his cup poised ready to drink.] Go home, Mrs. Muskat.

What's the matter with you?