"Whoever you are, sir," her tone no longer repellent, "you are amusing. Pray, tell us whom we have the honor to entertain?"
"I haven't the vaguest idea who my hostess is,"—evasively.
"It is quite out of the question. You are the intruder."
"Call me Mr. Intruder, then," said I.
It was, you will agree, a novel adventure. I was beginning to enjoy it hugely.
"Who do you suppose this fellow is?" Gretchen asked.
"He says he is an American, and I believe he is. What Americans are in Barscheit?"
"I know of none at all. What shall we do to get rid of him?"
All this was carried on with unstudied rudeness. They were women of high and noble quality; and as I was an interloper, I could take no exception to a conversation in a language I had stated I did not understand. If they were rude, I had acted in a manner unbecoming a gentleman. Still, I was somewhat on the defensive. I took out my watch. My hour was up.
"I regret that I must be off," I said ruefully. "It is much pleasanter here than on the road."