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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Wife, et al by Anton Chekhov: with the hair combed down on the forehead like a Little
Russian's, and went off into a thin, aged laugh.
"And you go on getting younger," he said through his laugh. "I
wonder what dye you use for your hair and beard; you might let me
have some of it." Sniffing and gasping, he embraced me and kissed
me on the cheek. "You might give me some of it," he repeated.
"Why, you are not forty, are you?"
"Alas, I am forty-six!" I said, laughing.
Ivan Ivanitch smelt of tallow candles and cooking, and that
suited him. His big, puffy, slow-moving body was swathed in a
long frock-coat like a coachman's full coat, with a high waist,
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