t over to the window. The venetian blind was broken,
hung fan-shaped over the upper pane... "That blind must be mended. I'll
get the office boy to drop in and fix it on his way home to-morrow--he's
a good hand at blinds. Give him twopence and he'll do it as well as a
carpenter... Anna could do it herself if she was all right. So would
I, for the matter of that, but I don't like to trust myself on rickety
step-ladders." He looked up at the sky: it shone, strangely white,
unflecked with cloud; he looked down at the row of garden strips and
backyards. The fence of these gardens was built along the edge of
a gully, spanned by an iron suspension bridge, and the people had a
wretched habit of throwing their empty tins over the fence into the
gully. Just like them, of course! Andreas started counting the tins, and
decided, viciously, to write a letter to the papers about it and sign
it--sign it in full.

The servant girl came out of their back door into the yard, carrying his
boots. She threw one down on the ground, thrust her hand into the other,
and stared at it, sucking in her cheeks. Suddenly she bent forward,
spat on the toecap, and started polishing with a brush rooted out of her
apron pocket... "Slut of a girl! Heaven knows what infectious disease may
be breeding now in that boot. Anna must get rid of that girl--even
if she has to do without one for a bit--as soon as she's up and about
again. The way she chucked one boot down and then spat upon the other!
She didn't care whose boots she'd got hold of. SHE had no false notions
of the respect due to the master of the house." He turned away from
the window and switched his bath towel from the washstand rail, sick at
heart. "I'm too sensitive for a man--that's what's the matter with me.
Have been from the beginning, and will be to the end."

There was a gentle knock at the door and his mother came in. She closed
the door after her and leant against it. Andreas noticed that her cap
was crooked, and a long tail of hair hung over her shoulder. He went
forward and kissed her.

"Good morning, mother; how's Anna?"

The old woman spoke quickly, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"Andreas, please go to Doctor Erb as soon as you are dressed."

"Why," he said, "is she bad?"

Frau Binzer nodded, and Andreas, watching her, saw her face suddenly
change; a fine network of wrinkles seemed to pull over it from under the
skin surface.

"Sit down on the bed a moment," he said. "Bee