I gave her an address of an American man who was looking for a fiancee in my agency that time. She started to write him letters. But it appeared that she did not speak English at all and asked me to do translations. She behaved as if we were closest friends and I was sure she herself would certainly do such a favour for me if we changed places. I could not even charge her as I knew that she worked at a bankrupt factory and got her wage by old-fashioned sweatshirts manufactured by that factory which she had to sell somehow at the bazaar to get at least part of money. So I started to translate her long naive letters, sighing and looking at my watch, having delayed my numerous urgent affairs. She sat on my sofa and chatted describing her adventures with the sweatshirts and unlucky attempts to get another job. But in spite of all the effort the American man was not interested and did not reply, there was no more reason for her to visit as having become too busy with my bookkeeping report I could not continue my charity.