'Should I?' said Esther, smiling in return, and beginning to like Hannah. She had seen very little of her in those olden days, for Hannah had been an adult and well-to-do as long as Esther could remember; it seemed amusing now to walk side by side with her in perfect equality and apparently little younger. For Hannah's appearance had not aged perceptibly, which was, perhaps, why Esther recognised her at once. She had not become angular like her mother, nor coarse and stout like other mothers. She remained slim and graceful, with a virginal charm of expression. But the pretty face had gained in refinement; it looked earnest, almost spiritual, telling of suffering and patience, not unblent with peace.
Esther silently extracted half a crown from her purse and handed it to Hannah.
'I didn't mean to ask you, indeed I didn't,' said Hannah.
'Oh, I am glad you told me,' said Esther tremulously.
The idea of her giving charity, after the account of herself she had just heard, seemed ironical enough. She wished the transfer of the coin had taken place within eyeshot of Malka, then dismissed the thought as unworthy.
'You'll come in and have a cup of tea with us, won't you, after we've lodged the Greeners?' said Hannah. 'Now don't say no. It'll brighten up my father to see Reb Moshé's little girl.'
Esther tacitly assented.
'I heard of all of you recently,' she said, when they had hurried on a little farther. 'I met your brother at the theatre.'
Hannah's face lit up.
'How long was that ago?' she inquired anxiously.