glass of beer and chatted with other gentlemen. She heard him.

"I don't know what's the matter with that young fellow," he said. "He
does his duty and my boy is making progress. But he's like a stranger
from another world. He sits at the table and scarcely sees us. He
talks and you have the feeling that he doesn't know what he's talking
about. Either he's anaemic or he writes poetry."

She herself saw the world through a blue veil, heard the voices of
life across an immeasurable distance and felt hot, alien shivers run
through her enervated limbs.

The early Autumn approached and with it the day of his departure. At
last she thought of discussing the future with him which, until then,
like all else on earth, had sunk out of sight.

His mother, he told her, meant to move to Koenigsberg and earn her
living by keeping boarders. Thus there was at least a possibility of
his continuing his studies. But he didn't believe that he would be
able to finish. His present means would soon be exhausted and he had
no idea where others would come from.

All that he told her in the annoyed and almost tortured tones of one
long weary of hope who only staggers on in fear of more vital
degradation.

With flaming words she urged him to be of good courage. She insisted
upon such resources as--however frugal--were, after all, at hand, and
calculated every penny. She shrugged her shoulders at his gratitude
for that first act of helpfulness. If only there were something else