“Am——”
“Are——”
“I—I can hold the secret back from you no longer, throbbing jewel of my passion. I——”
“You——”
“Am——” He doffed his turban and stood erect. He glanced fixedly into her uplifted eyes. “The Crown Prince!”
“Crown Prince! Amut. Crown Prince of—of——”
“Of Chermany!”
“Mine Gott!” gasped Verbeena!
“That partnership has been dissolved, Verbeena lieber. But as soon as Popper schnapps the manacles of Holland off him, a new and splendid project will be put in operation by us ever magnificent and glorious Hohenzollerns. New and great fortunes await us—here on the desert, Verbeenalina! You bet your life on that! What do you think? We intend to establish a chain of Imperial Breweries on the Sahara where everybody is always so thirsty. Isn’t that great, Verbie? How’s that for high?”
“Great—but I—I am English!”