She worried me, with her persistent cheerfulness, but it would have been ungracious to tell her so. She was right in one way, though. I was ravenously hungry; and when she returned, bringing a tray with delicious coffee and rolls, I started on them, and let her babble away, as she did,—nineteen to the dozen.
I gathered that nearly a week had passed since I got to Berlin. The hotel tout had captured me at the depot, and I collapsed as I got out of the cab.
“In the ordinary way, you would have been sent to a hospital, but when they saw the portrait—”
“What portrait?” I asked; but even as I spoke my memory was returning, and I knew she must mean the miniature Loris had given me.
“What portrait? Why, the Fraulein Pendennis, to be sure!”