I was greatly taken aback. The guesses which had been arranged so neatly in my mind were swept into confusion.
'What you've got to realise,' said Dolly, evidently with an effort, 'is that I kept on marrying Germans. I ought to have left off at Siegfried. I wish now I had. But one gets into a habit—'
'But,' I interrupted, my mouth I think rather open, 'you kept on—?'
'Yes,' said Dolly, holding herself very straight and defiantly, 'I did keep on, and that's what I want you to be quite clear about before we settle down to stay here indefinitely. Kitty can't stay if I won't. I do put my foot down sometimes, and I would about this. Poor darling—she feels desperately what I've done, and I try to help her to keep it quiet with ordinary people as much as I can—oh, I'm always letting little bits out! But I can't, I won't, not tell a friend who so wonderfully invites us—'
'You're not going to begin being grateful?' I interrupted quickly.
'You've no idea,' Dolly answered irrelevantly, her eyes wide with wonder at her past self, 'how difficult it is not to marry Germans once you've begun.'
'But—how many?' I got out.
'Oh, only two. It wasn't their number so much. It was their quality.'
'What—Junkers?'
'Junkers? Would you mind more if they had been? Do you mind very much anyhow?'