“A little, yes.”
“How little? It is not a pointless question.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. Well, I speak the German I learned at high school. I was stationed in Germany for a few months after the war and heard a fair amount of German spoken there. I can understand the drift of most conversations between Germans, but I sometimes misunderstand so completely that I might think I was listening to an argument about politics when what I was really hearing was a discussion of the finer points of chicken farming. Does that answer your question?”
“Very clearly. I will explain the point. When you are using an interpreter, it is not always easy to avoid listening also to the conversation being interpreted. That way confusion may arise.”
“In fact, it’s better to trust to the interpreter and not try to do the work for her.”
“Exactly.”
The barman was hovering in the background. George ignored him. The interview was as good as over and he did not want to prolong it. Her cigarette was half smoked now. When it had burned down another quarter of an inch, he would get up.
“I expect you know Germany pretty well, Miss Kolin.”
“Only certain parts.”
“The Rhineland?”