Then she waited with her heart in her mouth and both hands clutching the edge of the table.
But nothing happened. He read on.
"Robert—" she said.
Once more he endeavoured to place his attention at her disposal, dragging it away reluctantly from his book. "Yes, Ingeborg?" he said.
"Robert—I'm going to Berlin."
"Are you, Ingeborg?" he inquired with perfect mildness.
"Why?"
"I've got to get things. Shop."
"And why Berlin, Ingeborg? Is not Meuk nearer?"
"Boots," she said. "There aren't any in Meuk. I never saw any in Meuk."