“You are not very domesticated, Miss Henderson.”
“No,” responded Miriam quietly, in joy and fear.
Fräulein gave a short laugh.
Goaded, Miriam plunged forward.
“We were never even allowed in the kitchen at home.”
“I see. You and your sisters were brought up like Countesses, wie Gräfinnen,” observed Fräulein Pfaff drily.
Miriam’s whole body was on fire ... “and your sisters and your sisters,” echoed through and through her. Holding back her tears she looked full at Fräulein and met the brown eyes. She met them until they turned away and Fräulein broke into smiling generalities. Conversation was released all round the table. Emphatic undertones reached her from the English side. “Fool” ... “simply idiotic.”
“I’ve done it now,” mused Miriam calmly, on the declining tide of her wrath.
Pretending to be occupied with those about her she sat examining the look Fräulein had given her ... she hates me.... Perhaps she did from the first.... She did from the first.... I shall have to go ... and suddenly, lately, she has grown worse....