Von Ibn contemplated her curiously.
“You have such a pretty mouth!” he murmured.
She laughed afresh.
“But with the stamp it is fifteen centimes anyway,” he continued.
“Stamp, what stamp? Oh, yes, the postal card,” she nodded; and then, “I never really expect to see you again, but I’m glad, very glad that I met you, because you have interested and amused me so much.”
“American men are so very stupid, are they not?” he said sympathetically.
“No, indeed,” she cried indignantly; “American men are charming, and they always rise and give their seats to women in the trams, which the men here never think of doing.”
“You need not speak to me so hotly,” said Von Ibn, “I always take a cab.”
The ending of his remark was sufficiently unexpected to cause a short break in the conversation; then Rosina went on:
“I saw a man do a very gallant thing once, he hurried to carry a poor old woman’s big bundle of washing for her because the tram stopped in the wrong place and she would have so far to take it. Wasn’t that royal in him?”