“‘Post them? Where to?’
“‘Why, to this Boless, of course.’
“‘But he does not exist!’
“I really could not understand a word. There was nothing left for me to do but to spit and walk out of the room. But she explained herself.
“‘Well, what of it?’ she began in an offended voice. ‘He does not exist. He does not, so,’ and she extended her hands as if she could not herself clearly understand why he did not exist in reality. ‘But I want him to. Am I not as much of a human being as the others? Of course I—I know.—But it does no harm to any one, that I am writing to him.—’
“‘Allow me—to whom?’
“‘To Boless, of course.’
“‘But he does not exist.’
“‘Oh, Mother of God! What if he does not exist? He does not; still to me he does. And Teresa—this is myself, and he replies to my letters, and I write to him again.’
“I understood. I felt so sick at heart, so ashamed of myself to know that alongside of me, only three paces removed, lived a human being who had no one in the whole world to love and sympathize with her, and that this being had to invent a friend for herself.