Krafft hung his wet coat over the back of a chair, and wiped his face dry of the melted snow.
"No heroics, Lulu!"
But she could not contain herself. "Oh, how dare you, It's a mean, dishonourable trick—only you would do it!"
"Sit down and listen to what I have to say. It won't take long. And it's to your own advantage, I think, not to make a noise.—May I smoke?"
She obeyed, taking the nearest chair; for she had begun to tremble; her legs shook under her. But when he held out the case of cigarettes to her, she struck it, and the contents were spilled on the floor.
"Look here, Lulu," he said, and crossing his legs, put one hand in his pocket, while with the other he made gestures suitable to his words. "I've not come here to-day to rake up old sores. Time has gone over them and healed them, and it's only your—NEBENBEI GESAGT, extremely bad-conscience that makes you afraid of me. I'm not here for myself, but—"
"Heinz!" The cry escaped her against her will. "For him? You've come from him!"
He removed his cigarette and smiled. "Him? Which? Which of them do you mean?"
"Which?" It was another uncontrollable exclamation. Then the expression of almost savage joy that had lighted up her face, died out. "Oh, I know you! ... know you and hate you, Heinz! I've never hated anyone as much as you."
"And a woman of your temperament hates uncommonly well.—No, all jokes aside,"—the word cut her; he saw this, and repeated it. "Joking apart, I've come to you to-day, merely to ask if you don't think your present little affair has gone far enough?"