What could she be thinking of? He did not want to drive her away, but this could not continue. He was at a loss to understand why she took her meals at home; she never went to a restaurant. Dear me, perhaps she had no more money! He had sent the maid to her once with a couple of hundred crowns— they could not last for ever! He glanced in his calendar and noticed that it was nearly a month since he had had that settlement with Hanka; her money must have been used up long ago. She had probably even bought things for the children with that money.
Tidemand grew hot all of a sudden. At least she should never lack anything; thank God, one wasn't a pauper exactly! He took out all the money he could spare, left the office, and went up-stairs. The maid told him that Hanka was in her own little room, the middle room facing the street. It was four o'clock.
He knocked and entered.
Hanka sat at the table, eating. She rose quickly.
"Oh—I thought it was the maid," she stammered. Her face coloured and she glanced uneasily at the table. She began to clear away, to place napkins over the dishes. She moved the chairs and said again and again: "I did not know—everything is so upset—"
But he asked her to excuse his abrupt entrance. He only wanted to—she must have been in need of money, of course she must; it couldn't be otherwise; he wouldn't hear any more about it. Here—he had brought a little for her present needs. And he placed the envelope on the table.
She refused to accept it. She had plenty of money left. She took out the last two hundred crowns he had sent her and showed him the bills. She even wanted to return them.
He looked at her in amazement. He noticed that her left hand was without the ring. He frowned and asked:
"What has become of your ring, Hanka?"
"It isn't the one you gave me," she answered quickly. "It is the other one. That doesn't matter."