“I had not observed this” he said gently, “but now I see the light is indeed very bad.” She watched him as he spoke, waiting, counting each syllable. He paused, gravely consulting her face; she made no effort to withhold the wave of anger flowing out over the words that stood mocking her on the desolate air, a bridge, carrying them up over the stream of her mind and forward, leaving her communications behind for ever. She waited, watching cynically for whatever he might offer to her dumbness, wondering whether it surprised him, rebuked as she regarded him, by his unchanged gentle lustre. “Oh _please_” he said hurriedly, his downcast inturned smile suddenly irradiating his forehead, bringing down the eyebrows that must have gone singing thoughtfully up as he spoke about the light ... a request of some kind; one of his extraordinary unashamed demands.... “You must help me. I must immediately pawn my watch. Where is a pawning shop?” Miriam stared her consternation. “Ah, no” he said, his features working with embarrassment “it is not for myself. It is my friend, the Polish Doctor, who was only now here,” Miriam gazed, plunging on through relief into a chaos of bewildered admiration. “But you hardly know him” she exclaimed, sitting down for more leisurely contemplation. “That is not the point” he said seriously, taking the chair on the other side of the little table. “Poor fellow, he is not long in London, and has almost no friends. He is working in abstruse researchings, needing much spendings on materials, and is threatened by his landlady to leave his apartments.” “Did he tell you this?” said Miriam sceptically recalling the Polish head, its smooth cold perfect beauty and indifference. “Most certainly he told me. He must immediately have ten pounds.” “Perhaps you would not get so much,” persisted Miriam. “And suppose he does not pay it back?” “You are mistaken. The watch, with the chain, is worth more than the double this sum.” His face expressed a grave simple finality. “But it is a _shame_,” she cried, jealously eyeing the decoration that seemed now to have been an essential part of their many meetings. Without this mark of opulence, he would not be quite the same... “Why a shame?” demanded Mr. Shatov, with his little abrupt snorting chuckle. “I shall again have my watch when my father shall send me the next portion of my allowance.” He was not counting on the return of the money! Next month, with his allowance, he would have the watch and forget the incident..... Wealth made life safe for him. People could be people to him; even strangers; not threats or problems. But even a wealthy Englishman would not calmly give ten pounds to a disreputable stranger ... he would suspect him even if he were not disreputable. It _might_ be true that the Pole was in honest difficulties. But it was impossible to imagine him really working at anything. Mr. Shatov did not feel this at all......