"Lubova, you can make your arrangements here, while we finish our
little conversation. Well then, African Mitrich, explain
yourself."
"You will pardon me, Lubov Yakovlevna, won't you?" asked Smolin,
gently.
"Pray do not stand upon ceremony," said Lubov. "He's polite and
clever," she remarked to herself; and, as she walked about in the
room from the table to the sideboard, she began to listen
attentively to Smolin's words. He spoke softly, confidently, with
a simplicity, in which was felt condescendence toward the
interlocutor. "Well then, for four years I have carefully studied
the condition of Russian leather in foreign markets. It's a sad
and horrid condition! About thirty years ago our leather was
considered there as the standard, while now the demand for it is
constantly falling off, and, of course, the price goes hand in
hand with it. And that is perfectly natural. Lacking the capital
and knowledge all these small leather producers are not able to
raise their product to the proper standard, and, at the same
time, to reduce the price.
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