two tickets to the Crimea. You’re a doctor of science after all, head of the department.” Sargel moved to the window and looked out into the street, as if he saw the seashore there and on it his wife and Bagila in bathing suits, in close proximity to unfamiliar men. “Can’t she just forget him here?” “No!” Malika put all her ardour into this “no”, sensing that the conversation might stall. “You are a smart person, and you understand well how difficult it is for a girl. She’s having such a dangerous time, help her distract herself!” Sargel, twisted in a bundle of the most unexpected thoughts, loomed over the kitchen. Finally, he stopped in front of his wife. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will answer you…” Malika silently agreed and returned to the plates. She needed to think things through. It was going to be a fun night ahead, she wondered how many questions he will ask and how she will answer them so as not to alert someone like Sargel? Having barely finished the exams, Bagila left with Malika to the sea. It was true heroism on Sargel’s part. He was exhausted to the point of heartache, until permission was given. Only the presence of his niece next to Malika somehow calmed him. After returning from the airport, Sargel immediate- ly called Karatai. “Thank you,” Karatai expressed his gratitude. “I’m glad you’re treating her with such paternal care.” “Do not mention it!” Sargel replied with deliberate disdain. “Our common duty is to think about procreation. Bagila is our blood, our descendant. We all live for the sake of children!” “Not everyone thinks so…” Sargel was glad that Karatai liked him again and laughed. “By the way, about that conversation… It seems that she threw him out of her head. Now everything is fine, calm, cheerful. I think sea water will completely wash her off him,” Sargel did not notice that this sounded ambigu- ous, but Karatai was stung by this phrase. “It will return, and it will be insipid again, as before, without bitterness and without sweetness…” Sargel was clearly carried away, he was very pleased with himself. The next moment his face twisted, as if he were choking. “What…? When? No, why?” Surprised, Sargel’s tongue stuck to the sky. “No, I do not know. I haven’t read. These days many writers get divorced… Yes, they are all good, unless
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