"So?
Very good, then I'll discuss it with her to-morrow."
I pushed the telephone book once again over the drawing on the pulpit.
"Do you think she—that she might have another attack like that?"
Jaffe hesitated a moment.
"It's possible, of course," said he then, "but it is not probable.
I will only be able to tell you that after I have examined her thoroughly.
I'll call you up then."
"Thanks, do."
I hung up the receiver.
Outside I stood a while in the street.
It was dusty and close.
Then I went home.
At the door I ran into Frau Zalewski.
She shot out of Frau Bender's room like a cannon ball.
As she caught sight of me she stopped.
"What, back already?"
"As you see.
Anything happened in the meantime?"
"Nothing to do with you.
No mail either. But Frau Bender has gone."
"Indeed.
Why?"
Frau Zalewski put her hands on her hips.
"Because the world is full of scoundrels.
She has gone to the Christian Home. With her cat and twenty-six marks."
She explained that the orphanage, where Frau Bender had been children's nurse, had gone phut.
The director had been speculating unwisely on the exchange.
Frau Bender had been dismissed and had lost two months' arrears of pay.
"Has she found something else?" I asked thoughtlessly.
Frau Zalewski merely looked at me.
"No, no, of course not," said I.
"I told her she could stay on if she liked. There was no hurry about payment.
But she wouldn't."
"Poor people are generally honest," said I. "Who's moving in there now, then?"
"The Hasses.
It's cheaper than the room they have been having." "And the Hasses'?"
She gave a shrug.
"Must wait and see.
I haven't much hope anyone will come."
"When will it be free, then?"
"To-morrow.
The Hasses are moving now."
"How much does the room cost, actually?" I asked. An idea had suddenly occurred to me.
"Seventy marks."
"Much too dear," said I, now wide awake.
"With morning coffee, two rolls, and plenty of butter?"
"True.
But leaving out Friday's morning coffee—fifty, not a pfennig more."
"Would you be thinking of taking it?" asked Frau Zalewski.