“Listen,” said Anna, “they’ve moved her into the back bedroom above here, so as not to disturb the people. That was a groan—that one!”
“Two small beers,” shouted Herr Lehmann through the slide.
“One moment, one moment.”
At eight o’clock the café was deserted. Sabina sat down in the corner without her sewing. Nothing seemed to have happened to the Frau. A doctor had come—that was all.
“Ach,” said Sabina. “I think no more of it. I listen no more. Ach, I would like to go away—I hate this talk. I will not hear it. No, it is too much.” She leaned both elbows on the table—cupped her face in her hands and pouted.
But the outer door suddenly opening, she sprang to her feet and laughed. It was the Young Man again. He ordered more port, and brought no book this time.
“Don’t go and sit miles away,” he grumbled. “I want to be amused. And here, take my coat. Can’t you dry it somewhere?—snowing again.”
“There’s a warm place—the ladies’ cloak-room,” she said. “I’ll take it in there—just by the kitchen.”
She felt better, and quite happy again.
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “I’ll see where you put it.”