“It’s not management, but a series of failures!” insisted Moisei Solomonovich, getting more and more angry, as he somehow roundly accented the letter “f”.
“You’re lying! You’re lying! A lot was done, you counter-rev. You should be the first to be smashed!” Gorshkov dully barked from above, eavesdropping on the conversation.
Moisei Solomonovich took off his glasses with a frenzied movement. It was as though he believed that if he could not see without his glasses, then no one else would see him either.
Gorshkov hurriedly got down from the upper bunk, wanting to shake Moisei Solomonovich by the chest, but he saw Artiom, who was only waiting for someone like him, so he just laid out his reserves of bad language, swearing foully, abundantly, strenuously.
Artiom listened, his mouth agape an
