. There are two rows of tables in the room, six in each row. At the cashier’s desk sits Bogle, cold, sordid, slow, and takes your money. Behind a mountain of toothpicks he makes your change. You are not Bogle’s friend; you are a fed, transient customer, and you and he may not meet again. So take your change and go – to the devil if you like.
Рассказы / Short Stories
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О. Генри
