The Russian looked sympathetic. "A woman?"
"My sister," said Felix, laying the stump of his cigarette down in his plate, and watching it sedulously. "She got into bad hands during my imprisonment. I have to put her in a place of safety. She is in hospital now—the result of an accident."
"Take her abroad with you—why not?"
"The old unanswerable argument—£ s. d.," said Felix, with a sad smile. "It costs twice as much—more than twice as much—to take a girl about with you."
The conversation had been in French from the beginning.
Now the young man stood up. "I must go," he said. "My job is not over. I have to be on the premises at night and keep watch. Many thanks for your good entertainment. This dinner has bucked me up."
"Yes," said Vronsky, in an interested way. "They told me that in England they never cook at all, and that one eats food raw or goes without. But I have dined here well to-night."
"So have I; and as it is the first time for very many nights, it leaves me most grateful to you for all your kindness."
"Shall I see you again? I hope so. Stroll down after your work to-morrow, and have coffee with me and a smoke."
"It ought to be my turn to-morrow," said Felix. "I don't like sponging. But I literally have not a halfpenny to spend just now. Good-night. I was glad to hear that about Loris Levien. About his being safe with his mother. But chiefly I am grateful to you for not looking on me as an outcast. Here, in my own country, I have done for myself, once and for all. My own brother won't speak to me. It is—but there! how can you tell what it feels like, to be taken by the hand by a man who knows your record and does not despise you for it?"