“I do. She can stick anything round her neck—and look nice.”
“Anything; a garter or a—a kipper....”
“Don’t be so cracked.”
“She says weird things have been happening to her. I say I didn’t make any coffee for you and the spirit lamp wants filling.”
“Damn you—Schweinhund—verfluchte Schweinhund.”
Miriam had been gazing at the strong square figure in the short round fur-lined cloak and sweeping velvet hat, the firm decisive movements and imagining the delicate pointed high-heeled shoes. Presently those things would be off and the door closed on the three of them.
“There’s some Bass.”
“I’m going to have some suppe. Have some suppe, Henderson.”
“Non, merci.”
“She’s proud. Bring her some. What did you have for supper, child?”