He dropped his goggles and gazed blankly at the tall, elegantly dressed lady, from behind whose lace veil two star-like, tear-filled eyes gave him a blissful greeting. His red lids blinked suspiciously; then he raised his left hand with a clumsy gesture to his hat brim.
"But, Herr Redlich ... Don't you know me? I am Lilly--Lilly Czepanek. Don't you remember Lilly?"
Yes, now he remembered. "Of course," he said, "why shouldn't I remember you?"
At the same moment he pulled down his waistcoat with a stealthy jerk, as if to rectify as best he could the shortcomings of his personal appearance.
"Oh, Herr Redlich, what a long time it is since we've met! It must, I think, be six or eight years. No, it can't be as long; and yet to me it seems longer. Things have gone well with you, I hope? I expect you are terribly busy, otherwise we might spend a little time together."
He certainly was busy, but, in spite of that, if she liked, he could spare her a quarter of an hour.
"Shall we go into a restaurant," she suggested, still half-crying and half-laughing, "and have a glass of beer? I can hardly believe it, Herr Redlich, that we've really met again."
He had decided objections to the glass of beer.
"Restaurants are so stuffy and crowded," he said, "and the beer about here is so bad--not fit to drink."
"Poor fellow! He's too poor to pay for it," she thought; and she suggested that they should sit down on a seat somewhere instead.