A moment later Annette was called into the engineer's office and chosen. She was known as an accurate, intelligent worker. As she came out she ran into Ruth and passed her coldly. Ruth stopped her and asked, "You are going to have it?" "I have it." She saw the other's forehead redden strangely. She was expecting some violent remark, but Ruth said nothing. Annette continued on her way, and the other followed her. They descended the stairs. As she reached the street, Annette, turning round, threw a rapid glance towards her defeated rival, and Ruth's dejected air touched her. In spite of her resolution to be hard, she went back and said to her, "I'm sorry. One has to live." "Oh, I'm quite aware of that," said the other. "Some have all the luck. I never have any." Her tone had entirely changed. Dejection without animosity. Annette made a movement to take her hand, but Ruth drew back her own. "Come, don't feel badly! One day one of us loses; another day it will be the other." "It's every day with me." Annette recalled their first encounter when Ruth had succeeded in getting the place. Ruth did not reply and walked along dejectedly beside Annette. "Couldn't I help you?" said Annette. The blush overspread her forehead again. Wounded pride, emotion? Ruth said dryly, "No!" "It would give me pleasure to do so," Annette insisted. And with a familiar gesture she seized her arm. Ruth was surprised and pressed Annette's hand nervously under her arm, and, turning her head, she bit her lip. Then she tore herself away in irritation and walked off. Annette let her go, following her with her eyes. She understood her: yes, one has no right to offer one's pity to one who does not ask for it. A few days later, entering a dairy, she saw Ruth making some purchases. She held out her hand to her. This time Ruth took it, but with an icy air. She made an effort, however, to appear less sullen; she uttered a few common-place words, and Annette, satisfied with this ungenerous advance, replied. The two women discussed the prices of the things they had bought. Annette, though she did not show it, was astonished that Ruth spent more than she on fresh eggs and special milk. Ruth was a little ostentatious in paying in front of her. As they went out, Annette said, "How much it costs to live!" She almost excused herself for the eggs she had bought, saying, "They're for my child." Ruth, with a lofty air, remarked, "Mine are for my husband." Annette knew nothing about the other's life. "Is he ill?" she asked. "No, but he is very delicate."