"Do I make all the difference?"
"All the difference, my little wife."
She came and kissed him, and then stood looking down into his face with tender concern.
"You look so tired. Has anything been worrying you?"
"No, nothing—only the head-work is rather a strain. One has to give mind and soul to it; there is no slacking possible, even if one were inclined that way."
"Which you are not, you terrible man of iron and blood! Sometimes I am quite jealous of your work: I believe you love it more than you do me."
"It is my duty," he answered gravely. And then, after a moment, he added in a lighter tone, "By the way, an old friend of yours has arrived in Berlin."
Nora started.
"Who?"
"Bauer!"