"Yes, but----"
"And afterwards I made the excuse that the place was not heated."
"I remember perfectly. But what has it to do with my work?"
"If you had gone a few steps further you would have seen all your glass plaques--fifty-six in all--the last not even unpacked."
She looked up at him as if he were her executioner. Then she sank back and buried her face in the sofa. She had no more tears to shed, but the soft darkness of the cushions did her eyes good. She wanted not to see, hear, or think any more--only to die as soon as possible, before starvation and disgrace overtook her.
There was a long silence. She thought he must have gone, when she felt his hand caressing her shoulder, and heard his voice in trembling, pleading appeal say, "Dear, dear, dearest of friends, tell me what else could I have done? Could I deprive you of your one interest and resource? Could I tell you the things were unsaleable rubbish, amateurishly executed? I saw how absolutely wrapped up you were in it for a time, and I let it go on till it died a natural death.... I said to myself, when her circumstances are easier she won't care about it any longer. And wasn't I right? You haven't done a stroke for the last month or so, have you? Dearest one, do consider; what have I done that is so bad? I rescued you from a life of degrading penury. I found you a little home in which you have spent a few happy months free from care, and I didn't ask for so much as a kiss. If you like, go back to Frau Laue to-morrow, just as if nothing had happened, or stay quietly here till you have found some employment to suit you. You shall not be troubled by my society. I needn't come to see you.... When I leave you to-night...."
He could not go on. When, after a moment of silence, she glanced up, curious and anxious to see what he was doing, she beheld him sitting at the table, or rather half-lying across it, with his head buried in his arms, while his shoulders were convulsed by noiseless sobs.
She went and stood beside him, and was moved to fresh tears. They coursed down her cheeks. She was so sorry; oh, how sorry she was!
Then she laid her hand gently on his head. "You may comfort yourself, dear friend," she said, "with the thought that it is far, far worse for me than for you. Then, you see, I have no one else." And she shuddered, thinking of the loneliness that was coming.
He straightened himself and silently put out his hand for his hat. His eyes were more bloodshot and more prominent than before, and his head drooped now quite to one side.