BERTHA. You can depend on me entirely. I shall write the secretary immediately—
MRS. HALL. Oh, you're so good, but before the secretary can answer, I and my poor children will probably be thrown out into the street. Dear Mrs. Alberg, you couldn't lend me a trifle—just wait—a trifle of twenty francs?
BERTHA. No, dear lady, I haven't any money. My husband supports me for the time being, and you may be sure that I'm reminded of the fact. It's bitter to eat the bread of charity when one is young, but better times are coming for me too.
MRS. HALL. My dear, good Mrs. Alberg, you must not refuse me. If you do, I am a lost woman. Help me, for heaven's sake.
BERTHA. Are you terribly in need?
MRS. HALL. And you ask me that!
BERTHA. I'll let you have this money as a loan. [She goes to chiffonier.] Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty—lacking twenty. What did I do with it? H'm, luncheon, of course! [She writes in account-book.] Paints twenty, incidentals twenty—there you are.
MRS. HALL. Thank you, my good Mrs. Alberg, thanks, dear lady.
BERTHA. There, there. But I can't give you any more time today. So, good-bye, and depend on me.
MRS. HALL [Uncertain]. Just a moment now.