"You mean Wetter?"
"Oh, a few years over thirty. But he's made the most of his time in the world. The most, not the best, I mean, you know."
Her thoughts had been on Wetter and Wetter's words. Since she had smiled I concluded that my guess was not far off. Elsa turned to me with a blush and the coquettish air that now and then sat so prettily on her innocence.
"I should think he might have made love rather well," she said.
"I shouldn't wonder in the least," said I. "But he might be a little tempestuous."
"Yes," Elsa acquiesced. "And that wouldn't be nice, would it?"
"Not at all nice," said I, and laughed. Elsa joined in my laugh, but doubtfully and reluctantly, as though she had but a dim glimmer of the reason for it. Then she turned to me with a sudden radiant smile.
"Fancy!" said she. "Mother says I must have forty frocks."
"My dear," said I, "have four hundred."