To Batya’s surprise, she caught sight of him exiting the house, having missed his arrival. Even with the padded coat, his shoulders seemed to gather downward.

“Ulmann!” she called out. “You’re not coming to see me?”

He turned to look at her, his brow contorted in pain.

Her heart sank. “Please come up.” She pouted her lips to mouth the word “Please.”

When he handed her the token he’d just purchased from Freda, Batya slipped it right back into his pocket. “Keep it. Just talk to me.” She removed his coat and led him to the upholstered chair, then settled on the sheepskin rug. Resting her chin on Ulmann’s knees, she looked up.

“I can’t pay him enough.” His voice broke as he stroked her hair. “His share of your winnings in the competition has made him greedy.”

Batya’s stomach clenched. How could she let this gentle, beautiful-souled man vanish? If her family was going to be stuck in Odessa all winter and Sergio wouldn’t send her to the colonies alone, Ulmann was her only lifeline. She pressed her breasts against his legs. “Couldn’t you take a loan?”

“And then what? I’ll have to pay it back.” He shook his head sadly. “I’ve calculated my expenses carefully.”

The money Sergio had given her was for her family. Afterward, though, she might be able to help. “What if I continue to participate in the tango competitions?” Batya asked Ulmann. “Many are taking place all over Argentina. If I win when we live together, my share will be yours to pay back.”

He shook his head again. “I won’t be your pimp. Even if I can’t make you an honorable married woman, I must still treat both of us with the respect you and I deserve.”

Didn’t he see that by treating her with respect, he was condemning her to the degradation of prostitution? Batya rose to her knees and took his face between her palms. “Listen,” she whispered, “dancing is reputable.”

He frowned. “Your winning is not guaranteed. I’ll be in debt if you don’t.”

Would he ask for his ring back? Batya racked her brain for something to say to convince Ulmann to hold on to their dream. In her mind’s eye, she saw the apartment and her plant-filled veranda. There was no visual picture of the obscure future Sergio still dangled in front of her. “Do you know why I’m not encouraging offers from other suitors?” she asked Ulmann. “Because I want the same thing you do—for us to be together.”

He let her comfort him in her bed. It was Batya, not Esperanza, who made love to him, Batya who didn’t need to insert her protection cup, trusting that Ulmann wasn’t carrying diseases from other women.