“Then your idea would quite be accounted for. Young ladies must of course wish to wear that which becomes them.”
“Very becoming!” I sneered, grandly.
“Very,” he replied, emphatically. “It makes me wish to be an orphan.”
“Ah, mein Herr,” said the woman, reproachfully, for he had spoken German. “Don’t jest about that. If you have parents—”
“No, I haven’t,” he interposed, hastily.
“Or children either?”
“I should not else have understood yours so well,” he laughed. “Come, my—Miss Wedderburn, if you are ready.”
After arranging with the woman that she should dry my things and return them, receiving her own in exchange, we left the house.
It was quite moonlight now; the last faint streak of twilight had disappeared. The way that we must traverse to reach the town stretched before us, long, straight, and flat.
“Where is your shawl?” he asked, suddenly.