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351 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1932
The young man looked at Pinneberg. Pinneberg looked at the young man. Both of them were smartly dressed. Pinneberg was obliged to look respectable in his job. Both of them had washed and shaved, both had clean nails and both of them were white-collar workers.
But they were enemies, deadly enemies, because one of them was sitting behind the counter and the other was standing in front. The one wanted what he considered to be his rights; the other regarded it as an imposition.
‘What I do outside work is my own business!’ exclaimed the girl. She seemed to have stopped crying.
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Mr Spannfuss earnestly. ‘Seriously wrong. Mandels feeds you and clothes you, Mandels provides the wherewithal of your very existence. It’s not unreasonable to expect that you should think of Mandels first in everything you do and don’t do.’
‘The firm makes your private life possible, sir! The firm comes first, second and third. After that you do what you like. We take on the burden of providing you with your daily bread. You’ve got to understand that. You live off us. You’re punctual enough collecting your pay at the end of the month.’
And suddenly the cold had gone, an immeasurably gentle green wave lifted her up and him with her. They glided up together; the stars glittered very near; she whispered: ‘But you can look at me! Always, always! You’re with me, we’re together …’

