“I hope that we are to have potato salad to-night,” she said cheerfully.
He continued to meditate moodily.
“Oh, we are much too much together,” he announced at last.
“Well,” she replied, “if you go to the Tagernsee to-morrow that will give us a little mutual rest.”
“I may miss the train,” he added thoughtfully; “if I do—”
“You can take the next one,” she finished for him.
He looked at her witheringly.
“If I do miss the train, I will carry my violin to you and we will make some music in the evening.”
Rosina stopped, fairly paralyzed with joy.
“Oh, monsieur,” she cried, “will you really?”