Leonard gave a grunt.
"Yes, Len, dear, it was dreadful. You never could have stood it, you're so particular," Marjorie said, settling her head against Leonard's arm. "The girls only bathed once a year!"
"Dirty beasts!" muttered Leonard. "But what's that got to do with the point?"
"I'm preparing you for that by degrees. Len, dear, it was dreadful. No one spoke a word of English, and I couldn't speak a word of German, and it was such a long winter, and all the flowers and grass were dead in the garden, and at night a huge walnut tree used to rattle against my window and scare me; and they don't open their windows at night, and I nearly died of suffocation! They think in Germany that the night air is poisonous."
"They don't use it instead of gas. How about the man? Hurry up!"
He looked at his watch, but Marjorie chose to ignore him.
"We've got eleven hours," she said, with tragic contentment; "I'm coming to the man. The girls used to sit about indoors and embroider—oh, everlastingly! Hideous things. I was, oh, so restless! You know how you are at that age."
"I was playing football," said Leonard; "so ought the man to have been, instead of casting sheep's eyes at you."
"He had nice eyes," said Marjorie, pensively, "and lived next door, and," she added, as Leonard puffed stolidly at his pipe, "he was terribly good-looking."
"He was?" said Leonard, raising his eyebrows.