A stout woman was heavily going upstairs. There was a pawn-shop on the second floor of a supermarket. All of a sudden her eyes flickered uneasily from corner to corner dying to believe there was no piano there anymore.
- They've redeemed it, Mrs. Rise, -said a security guard. - They've washed it all right and shed lustre on it. They've put it next to the last cash register right at the input. Mr. Chickenboat, the supermarket director, turned out to be a connoisseur of antiques, you know... Your daughter won't have a chance to play this piano anymore. Sorry, but there's nothing we can do about it.
He went on gabbling on the heels of her while she was scrambling down giving her way to despair, tears in her eyes.