room on tiptoe. But suddenly Mr. Hire raised his head and stared across the courtyard at the girl's room, where the light was turned on at that moment. He had never noticed its details so clearly. The girl came in, banged the door behind her and, without the slightest pause, flung herself fully dressed on the bed, her face in the crook of her elbow.
Mr. Hire still did not budge. She was lying flat on her stomach. Her whole body was shaking so that her rump jerked erotically. But the convulsive shaking of her shoulders was the most evident of all, while her feet beat furiously on the pink eiderdown.
She was weeping. She was sobbing. Mr. Hire, embarrassed as though by something abnormal, picked up one of the pieces of brown paper from the table and fastened it, with four drawing-pins, over one of the three window-panes. But he could still see her through the two others. He worked slowly. His lips parted as though he were talking to himself.
Alice pulled herself together, twisted round like a leaping trout, bounded to her feet and, in a fury, pulled open her green silk blouse, uncovering her white vest with the breasts bulging under it.
Her hair was tousled. She began to walk about. She went from the bed to the dressing table, grabbed a comb, which she then hurled across the room, and twice she looked in Mr. Hire's direction.
He had picked up the second piece of brown paper and four more drawing-pins. Two of these were already in place. Alice hunted feverishly in her bag, afraid to lose a second, brought out a pencil, tore off a big piece of lace-edged paper from a shelf.
Mr. Hire retreated to the table, whence he could see nothing. But he was no sooner there than he came forward a step and bent his head to look through the third window-pane, the only one still uncovered.
She had already finished writing and, kneeling on her bed, was holding the paper close up to her own window, watching the room opposite with an anxious face.
She could see him trying to hide. She snapped her fingers like an impatient schoolboy.
It never entered her head that Mr. Hire could not read what she had written, because the light was behind the piece of paper and all he saw was a dark square.
Becoming more and more irritable, she gave several little taps on the glass, and he came another step forward, mistrustful, then stood motionless for quite a time. At last he made a negative gesture with his hand, took his piece of brown paper, stepped back, and held it up close to his own lamp.
She did not understand. She pointed to her own sheet of paper, and Mr. Hire indicated his lamp with a brief and still hesitant little gesture. As she was wiping her eyes with her free hand, he went close up to the window, held his paper as she was holding hers, then withdrew and raised it up to the lamp.
She had understood. She jumped off her bed and held out her paper with both hands.
After all this, Mr. Hire had beads of sweat on his forehead and more still on his upper lip, under the moustache. He puckered his heavy dark eyebrows and read: 'I absolutely must speak to you.'
She was still holding the paper high in the air, and this drew up her breasts, making them look still heavier, and revealed the reddish hair under her armpits.
As Mr. Hire drew back, she rushed forward again, pleading, nodding repeatedly as much as to say:
'Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . .'
He had practically disappeared, for when he was at the far side of his room she could not see him any longer. He came back, then retreated again with a stern expression, pointing with one finger across to her room.
'No . . .' she shook her head.
And she pointed to Mr. Hire's room, and did not wait for a reply. Springing off the bed, she snatched up her blouse and wriggled into it as she made for the door. She came back, however, to look at herself in the glass, and after dabbing her face with a towel, she powdered it a little, pushed out her lips to make sure the lipstick had not smudged.
Mr. Hire,
Mr. Hire still did not budge. She was lying flat on her stomach. Her whole body was shaking so that her rump jerked erotically. But the convulsive shaking of her shoulders was the most evident of all, while her feet beat furiously on the pink eiderdown.
She was weeping. She was sobbing. Mr. Hire, embarrassed as though by something abnormal, picked up one of the pieces of brown paper from the table and fastened it, with four drawing-pins, over one of the three window-panes. But he could still see her through the two others. He worked slowly. His lips parted as though he were talking to himself.
Alice pulled herself together, twisted round like a leaping trout, bounded to her feet and, in a fury, pulled open her green silk blouse, uncovering her white vest with the breasts bulging under it.
Her hair was tousled. She began to walk about. She went from the bed to the dressing table, grabbed a comb, which she then hurled across the room, and twice she looked in Mr. Hire's direction.
He had picked up the second piece of brown paper and four more drawing-pins. Two of these were already in place. Alice hunted feverishly in her bag, afraid to lose a second, brought out a pencil, tore off a big piece of lace-edged paper from a shelf.
Mr. Hire retreated to the table, whence he could see nothing. But he was no sooner there than he came forward a step and bent his head to look through the third window-pane, the only one still uncovered.
She had already finished writing and, kneeling on her bed, was holding the paper close up to her own window, watching the room opposite with an anxious face.
She could see him trying to hide. She snapped her fingers like an impatient schoolboy.
It never entered her head that Mr. Hire could not read what she had written, because the light was behind the piece of paper and all he saw was a dark square.
Becoming more and more irritable, she gave several little taps on the glass, and he came another step forward, mistrustful, then stood motionless for quite a time. At last he made a negative gesture with his hand, took his piece of brown paper, stepped back, and held it up close to his own lamp.
She did not understand. She pointed to her own sheet of paper, and Mr. Hire indicated his lamp with a brief and still hesitant little gesture. As she was wiping her eyes with her free hand, he went close up to the window, held his paper as she was holding hers, then withdrew and raised it up to the lamp.
She had understood. She jumped off her bed and held out her paper with both hands.
After all this, Mr. Hire had beads of sweat on his forehead and more still on his upper lip, under the moustache. He puckered his heavy dark eyebrows and read: 'I absolutely must speak to you.'
She was still holding the paper high in the air, and this drew up her breasts, making them look still heavier, and revealed the reddish hair under her armpits.
As Mr. Hire drew back, she rushed forward again, pleading, nodding repeatedly as much as to say:
'Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . .'
He had practically disappeared, for when he was at the far side of his room she could not see him any longer. He came back, then retreated again with a stern expression, pointing with one finger across to her room.
'No . . .' she shook her head.
And she pointed to Mr. Hire's room, and did not wait for a reply. Springing off the bed, she snatched up her blouse and wriggled into it as she made for the door. She came back, however, to look at herself in the glass, and after dabbing her face with a towel, she powdered it a little, pushed out her lips to make sure the lipstick had not smudged.
Mr. Hire,
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