"All of them?"
"All of them?" he echoed.
"It wouldn't be like Roman Catholics and Protestants marrying, and half the children be German and half English?"
"Certainly not," said Herr Dremmel emphatically.
"But Robert—"
"Continue, little hare."
"What are German children like?"
It was now Herr Dremmel's turn to say confidently, "You'll see."
A week later they were married; and the Bishop, inscrutably watching Ingeborg from the doorstep as she was being tucked by deft hands into the rugs of the car that was to take her to the station, observing how cushions were put in the right places at her back, how a footstool was carefully inserted under her feet, how her least movement was interpreted and instantly attended to, made his farewell remark to his daughter—the last remark, as it happened, that he ever did make to her.