"I have it."
She saw the other's forehead redden strangely. She was expecting some violent remark, but Ruth said nothing. Annette continued on her way, and the other followed her. They descended the stairs. As she reached the street, Annette, turning round, threw a rapid glance towards her defeated rival, and Ruth's dejected air touched her. In spite of her resolution to be hard, she went back and said to her, "I'm sorry. One has to live."
"Oh, I'm quite aware of that," said the other. "Some have all the luck. I never have any."
Her tone had entirely changed. Dejection without animosity. Annette made a movement to take her hand, but Ruth drew back her own.
"Come, don't feel badly! One day one of us loses; another day it will be the other."
"It's every day with me."
Annette recalled their first encounter when Ruth had succeeded in getting the place. Ruth did not reply and walked along dejectedly beside Annette.
"Couldn't I help you?" said Annette.
The blush overspread her forehead again. Wounded pride, emotion? Ruth said dryly, "No!"
"It would give me pleasure to do so," Annette insisted.