"That's hardly a reason," he said nervously.
With the veil stretched between her two hands, she turned her head. "Do you want another? Well, after you left me to-day, I lay and thought and thought ... till I felt I should go mad, if I lay there any longer."
"Yes, but all of a sudden, like this! After being in bed for three days ... to go out and ..."
"But I have not been ill!"
"Go out and wander about the streets, at night."
"I didn't mean to be so late," she said, and folded the veil with an exaggerated care. "But I was hindered; I had a little adventure."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing much. A man followed me—and I couldn't get rid of him."
"Go on, please!" He was astonished at the severity of his own voice.
"Oh, don't be so serious, Maurice!" She had folded the veil to a neat square, stuck three hatpins in it, and thrown it with her hat and jacket on the sofa. "No one has tried to murder me," she said, and raised both her hands to her hair. "I was standing before Haase's window—the big jeweller's in the PETERSTRASSE, you know. I've always loved jewellers' windows—especially at night, when they're lighted up. As a child, I thought heaven must be like the glitter of diamonds on blue velvet—the Jasper Sea, you know, and the pearly floor."