When Hubert left the apartment Lillian went to the chair by the window. For once she did not gaze down into the hot, glittering street. Some strange impulse caused her to turn the chair so that she sat regarding the shabby, dusty little room. The door of the kitchenette closet was open and she saw a cake of yellow soap with coffee grounds clinging to it, an empty condensed-milk can, and water dripping with persistent dreariness from the unpolished faucet.
Hubert should not have gone out. His cold was very bad. She sighed. He really had had to go. She was fairly certain that he had gone to borrow money from one of his friends. She wondered which one. Would it be either of the McKay brothers? More likely, though, it would be a close friend rather than a business acquaintance. He really had to have some money. Anybody who saw him would recognize how necessary it was for him to have a doctor's care. Poor Hubert. A cold was rotten. She hoped that he wouldn't borrow much money. Money was so hard to repay, and they had one obligation now. Her ring would have to be redeemed. That would probably be around sixty dollars or so. Now if Hubert borrowed twenty-five today that would be all right. They'd only have around a hundred dollars to pay out when they got on their feet again.
