He sprang out of bed and went 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 back yards. 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 wash-stand 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. »Been up all night?«

»Yes. No, I won't sit down, I must go back to her. Anna has been in pain all night. She wouldn't have you disturbed before because she said you looked so run down yesterday. You told her you had caught a cold and been very worried.«

Straightway Andreas felt that he was being accused.

»Well, she made me tell her, worried it out of me; you know the way she does.«

Again Frau Binzer nodded.

»Oh yes, I know. She says, is your cold better, and there's a warm undervest for you in the left-hand corner of the big drawer.«

Quite automatically Andreas cleared his throat twice.

»Yes,« he answered. »Tell her my throat certainly feels looser.