“No,” replied Sophy with a laugh, “not yet.”
“Ach so! I do not think your uncle will permit you to marry any of those silly young English officers, who play games all day and are ashamed to wear uniform. Have you any relations in the Army?”
“Yes, I have two cousins; one in the Flying Corps and one in a submarine.”
“Ach so! That is most interesting. Some day you will tell me all about them, will you not? I like to hear about submarines.”
“Very well,” said Sophy, who was busy mixing a pudding according to an elaborate German recipe.
“Yes, you are getting on,” admitted Frau Wurm patronisingly. “You will be a good little housekeeper before I have finished with you. Tell me—how is your aunt to-day?” she asked abruptly.
“She seems better, much better.”
“Yes, much better—better since yon came; you rouse her, though she doesn’t get up now till eleven o’clock. She suffers from such a strange complaint—very mysterious,” she added with a significant sniff.
“I don’t think there is anything mysterious about neuralgia.”
“Oh, yes, there is,” rejoined Frau Wurm, lowering her voice; “we often talk it over and wonder. Long ago she was as others; now she is different, and seems but half awake—always so jaded and feeble and vague. There was only one who understood the case—that was Fernanda, and she has gone away, ach so!”