“Yes, you are.”
“How?”
“You interrupt, and you are frank to a degree that is always impolite, and sometimes really awful.”
“And you,” he exclaimed eagerly, “how bad you also are! you never even try to be agreeable, and when I speak with great seriosity you are often more amused than before, even.”
Rosina tried to look sorry, but found it safer, even in the twilight, to look the other way.
“The truth is,” he went on vigorously, “I am very much too good with you! I have never taken my time to an American before, and I am always fearful. I have been a fool. I shall not be a fool any more.”
“How do you intend to begin to grow wise?”
“You will see.”
The threat sounded dire, but they were now at the corner by the Maximiliansstrasse, and supper was too near for her to feel downcast.