“Do you feel anything like it again now?”
She shook her head.
“No, indeed; I feel that I may get tired of monsieur any day.”
They turned down towards the Ludwigsstrasse and Rosina appeared to be thinking deeply. At last she spoke, and her accents were firm as granite.
“I do not believe that I ever could marry again.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
“There’s no string on you,” he declared lightly.
The next morning, as the lady was stirring her whipped cream into her chocolate, Ottillie entered with a note:
“Dear Rosina,—Von Ibn and I are leaving for the Tagernsee by the early train. Think we’ll be gone four or five days.