"I was before you here." The Wanderer stood civilly aside and lifted his hat.

Unorna held out her hand, and he took it coldly, not being able to do otherwise.
"You will let me know, will you not ?" she said.

"I am anxious about him." He raised his eyebrows a little and dropped her hand.
"You shall be informed," he said.
Kafka helped her to get into the carriage.

She drew him by the hand so that his head was inside the door and the other man could not hear her words.
"I am anxious about you," she said very kindly.

"Make him come himself to me and tell me how you are." "Surely--if you have asked him--" "He hates me," whispered Unorna quickly.