“From the landlord,” he said in his toneless voice.
Hanneh Hayyeh paled. She could tell from his smirking sneer that it was a second notice of increased rental.
It grew black before her eyes. She was too stunned to think. Her first instinct was to run to her husband; but she needed sympathy—not nagging. And then in her darkness she saw a light—the face of her friend, Mrs. Preston. She hurried to her.
“Oi—friend! The landlord raised me my rent again,” she gasped, dashing into the room like a thing hounded by wild beasts.
Mrs. Preston was shocked by Hanneh Hayyeh’s distraught appearance. For the first time she noticed the ravages of worry and hunger.
“Hanneh Hayyeh! Try to calm yourself. It is really quite inexcusable the way the landlords are taking advantage of the situation. There must be a way out. We’ll fix it up somehow.”
“How fix it up?” Hanneh Hayyeh flared.
“We’ll see that you get the rent you need.” There was reassurance and confidence in Mrs. Preston’s tone.
Hanneh Hayyeh’s eyes flamed. Too choked for utterance, her breath ceased for a moment.
“I want no charity! You think maybe I came to beg? No—I want justice!”