"Elzbieta is," said Marija," when she can. I take care of them most of the time—I'm making plenty of money now."
Jurgis was silent for a moment. "Do they know you live here—how you live?" he asked.
"Elzbieta knows," answered Marija. "I couldn't lie to her. And maybe the children have found out by this time. It's nothing to be ashamed of—we can't help it."
"And Tamoszius?" he asked. "Does he know?"
Marija shrugged her shoulders. "How do I know?" she said. "I haven't seen him for over a year. He got blood-poisoning and lost one finger, and couldn't play the violin any more; and then he went away."
Marija was standing in front of the glass fastening her dress. Jurgis sat staring at her. He could hardly believe that she was the same woman he had known in the old days; she was so quiet—so hard! It struck fear to his heart to watch her.
Then suddenly she gave a glance at him. "You look as if you had been having a rough time of it yourself," she said.
"I have," he answered. "I haven't a cent in my pockets, and nothing to do."
"Where have you been?"
"All over. I've been hoboing it. Then I went back to the yards—just before the strike." He paused for a moment, hesitating. "I asked for you," he added. "I found you had gone away, no one knew where. Perhaps you think I did you a dirty trick, running away as I did, Marija—"
"No," she answered, "I don't blame you. We never have—any of us. You did your best—the job was too much for us." She paused a moment, then added: "We were too ignorant—that was the trouble. We didn't stand any chance. If I'd known what I know now we'd have won out."
"You'd have come here?" said Jurgis.
"Yes," she answered; "but that's not what I meant.
