He leaned back in his corner. Neither spoke for some minutes. The carriage turned into the Prater Street, passed the Tegethoff Monument, and a few minutes later was rolling swiftly through the broad, dark Prater Avenue.
Emma turned suddenly and flung both arms around her lover’s neck. He lifted the veil that still hung about her face, and kissed her.
“I have you again—at last!” she exclaimed.
“Do you know how long it is since we have seen each other?” he asked.
“Since Sunday.”
“Yes, and that wasn’t good for much.”
“Why not? You were in our house.”
“Yes—in your house. That’s just it. This can’t go on. I shall not enter your house again.... What’s the matter?”
“A carriage passed us.”
“Dear girl, the people who are driving in the Prater at such an hour, and in such weather, aren’t noticing much what other people are doing.”