He did not move a muscle.
"What are your means of support?" he asked next.
She was silent. She began to feel as if she were being stripped of every rag she had on.
"You understand, of course," he added, "that I haven't the least intention of prying into your private affairs, but as you did me the honour of asking my advice ..."
"I have a few ornaments," she said, looking him straight in the eyes with proud defiance. "When they come to an end I shall have nothing."
He inclined his head as much as to say, "I thought so."
"And one more question: Where are you living at present?"
"I am living, as befits my means, up four flights of stairs with a poor woman who has taught me how to press flowers."
As she said this she caught sight, in the glass opposite, of the elegant woman of the world who had condescended to pay Herr Dehnicke, "comrade of the Reserves," a visit in his gloomy hole of an office.
He rose and paced up and down a few seconds between the writing-table and door. His clothes were so tight and new that he crackled and creaked at every movement. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox, he was so polished and rotund. He was a little bit bald too, already. His face remained very serious, almost careworn. It seemed as if her hard lot weighed him to the earth.