"Is it possible that he loves me?" she thought to herself, sipping her cooled chocolate.
She pulled some role out of her pocket, read a few lines, and again gazed out upon the street.
The dilapidated hacks, pulled by lean horses, dragged along lazily; the tramways rumbled by; along the sidewalks people threaded like a long, immovable ribbon.
The clock chimed three. Cabinska arose and started for home, walking slowly until she spied the editor walking with Nicolette and the calm horizon of her mind suddenly became clouded.
"He, with Nicolette? . . . with that . . . base intriguer?"
Already from a distance she scorched them with the gaze of a Gorgon.
At the corner of Warecka Street, Nicolette suddenly disappeared and the editor approached her with a beaming countenance.
"Good morning! . . ." he cried, extending his hand.
Pepa measured him coolly and turned her face away.
"What sort of nonsense is this, Pepa?" he asked, quietly.