He went on to say that, owing to her kindly interest in him, he felt an interchange of ideas between them would be salutary, especially as he believed in the emancipation of women.
Here he halted, not knowing how to proceed, but still retaining his dignity. He challenged Lilly with his eyes, as much as to say: "You see how tactfully I am dealing with this delicate situation."
Lilly hadn't a notion what he was driving at, but it did not matter. The one thought that obsessed her was to save him from working himself to death.
"We had a master when we were in the Selecta, Herr Redlich," she began, "whose lectures were simply glorious. I shall never forget them! Like you, he overworked. By this time I am afraid he must have died of consumption, and if you don't take care you may come to the same end."
He nodded dejectedly. "Everything's so deuced hard," he muttered to himself.
"You ought to have more sleep and take walks--plenty of walks----"
"Do you go for walks, Fräulein?"
Lilly couldn't say truthfully that she ever did such a thing. Since she had been incarcerated in this den of books she had not seen a field of white snow or a green tree.
"I!" she exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders. "Why should I go for walks?" Then, rejoicing inwardly at her own boldness, she suggested: "Couldn't we go together one day?"
He looked amazed. "There would be all sorts of objections," he said, shaking back his forelock. "People might talk. For your sake--especially for your sake--one must be careful."