"You knew more German then?" asked Leonard.
"Yes, I suppose so; but I didn't need to understand. It was all in the sun, and the air was all warm from the cut clovers, and his eyes were, oh, so blue! And—I don't know. He took off his helmet and put it on my head, and he took his sword out of the scabbard and he put it in my hand, and he said, oh, all kinds of things in German that I couldn't understand very well."
"He was probably asking you how much your dowry was."
"Maybe, but his eyes didn't ask me that. And that was all. I never saw him again, and I don't ever expect to."
"Should rather think not."
"Would you mind?"
"Certainly," said Leonard.
"They're horrible tyrants, English husbands," said Marjie, kissing his arm.
"Not so bad as German ones," he replied, putting his head down to hers.
The casements rattled. Into the little dark square of the compartment window peered a confusion of lights, the myriad eyes of a great city.