The specter of poverty rose up before her, she reflected that rich people would cast her out of their society, and look upon her as a weak woman without any self-respect, conquered by Marker's tenacity.
There were no more storms after this, and peace reigned in the tightly-crammed flat in the Lutzowstrasse, but it was peace which concealed a great deal of grumbling and sulkiness.

Marker very seldom spoke, and his obstinate silence was made easy for him, for the women at last hardly ever spoke to him.

Every week he had a certain sum given him for pocket-money; Frau Brohl paid his tailor's and bootmaker's bills, and he was treated in fact as if he had done with this world.
His business was to take the little Malvine to school and fetch her home again, and on the way he grumbled incessantly to the child about her mother and grandmother.

The former he called "she," and the latter "the old lady." He never mentioned their names.

Malvine had noticed that at home they never spoke to her father; in her childish way she imitated this contemptuous silence.