“Yes.”
“A year ago?”
“Yes. It was the last straw. They’d tried the same game twice before. I was through.”
Nielsen eyed her in sympathy. He had not credited the whole of her story, incoherent and almost imaginary as some of its details sounded, but the climax had moved him deeply. He was not as superficial as his outward demeanor might indicate. But he was still a diplomat, and knowing Erna’s nature better than ever now, did not offer her open sympathy. Instead, he questioned: “So you wandered around New York looking for jobs?”
“Yes.”
“Till you landed at Landsmann’s?”
“Oh no, I had two other jobs before that.”
“Where?”
“At other bakeries, but I was fired.”
“For—for sassing back?” he asked, smiling.