'No, unless that happened which never can happen—if his belief changed. But I cannot go on talking like this; it is torture to me—and to what end?'
'I told you—for his good and yours. However, to business. Of course, since you have undertaken that tailor's work you must finish it; but after, I will get you work better paid. And this room—you do not like it? Mrs Toomey has a room to let, and I am sure she will like to have you for a lodger. Will you go there and see it, and if you like it move there? I will lend you money for moving and for present expenses, and you can pay me when you settle to work again.'
'But why,' asked Alice, half turning round to look at him, 'why are you so kind? Why do you help me so?'
'I help you,' he answered, laying some money on the table, 'because to me you are truly Litvinoff's wife, and I am the true friend of all who are friends of him.'
Alice knocked at Mrs Toomey's door about three o'clock that afternoon. Mrs Toomey, her baby in her arms, and an air of reserving judgment about her, showed the room she had to let, which was convenient and exquisitely clean.
Alice followed her into the parlour afterwards.
'I think it only fair to tell you,' she began confusedly, 'that I am not really Mrs Litvinoff—but—'
The other interrupted her.
'I know all about it,' she said, bluntly, 'and now I've seen you—'specially as you were going to tell me, so honest and fair—I'm sure we shall get on very well. And no one sha'n't ever know anything from me, and let bygones be bygones betwixt us. If you'd like to move in at once, why do, and come and have a cup o' tea with me when you've fetched your things.'