There was a pause. Gertrude smiled, but made no further response.
“Peectures,” murmured Minna. “Peectures always are beautiful. All towns are beautiful, perhaps. Not?”
“There may be bits, perhaps,” blurted Miriam, “but not whole towns and nothing anywhere a bit like Hoddenheim, I’m perfectly certain.”
“Oh, well, not the same,” complained Millie, “but just as beautiful—more beautiful.”
“Oh-ho, Millississimo.”
“Of course there are, Bertha, there must be.”
“Well, Millicent,” pressed Fräulein, “‘more beautiful’ and why? Beauty is what you see and is not for everyone the same. It is an affaire de goût. So you must tell us why to you the old towns of England are more beautiful than the old towns of Germany. It is because you prefair them? They are your towns, it is quite natural you should prefair them.”
“It isn’t only that, Fräulein.”
“Well?”
“Our country is older than Germany, besides——”