I burst into tears. I felt I must buy myself off. Despairingly I searched all my pockets. Not an apple, not a penknife, absolutely nothing. All at once I thought of my watch. It was an old silver one which wouldn’t go. I wore it for no special reason. It came down to me from my grandmother. I drew it out quickly.

“Kromer,” I said, “listen, you mustn’t give me away, that wouldn’t be nice of you. Look here, I will give you my watch; I haven’t anything else, worse luck! You can have it, it’s a silver one; the mechanism is good, there is one little thing wrong, that’s all, it needs repairing.”

He smiled and took the watch in his big hand. I looked at his hand and felt how coarse and hostile it was, how it grasped at my life and peace.

“It’s silver,” I said, timidly.

“I wouldn’t give a straw for your silver and your old watch!” he said with deep scorn. “Get it repaired yourself!”