"Yes, it's Latin."
"I never knew that you read Latin."
"You don't know everything about me yet."
"No, thank God!" cried Stefanie, indignantly. "And what is that Latin book?" she asked, curiously and inquisitorially.
"It's sinful," said Anton, teasingly.
"I thought as much. What's it called?"
"It's Suetonius: The Lives of the Caesars."
"So you're absorbed in the lives of those brutes, who tortured the early Christians!"
He grinned, with a broad grin. He sat there, big and heavy; and the folds and dewlaps of his full, yellow-red cheeks thrilled with pleasure at her outburst; the ends of his grey-yellow moustache stood straight up with merriment; and his eyes with their yellow irises gazed pensively at his sister, who had never been of the flesh. What hadn't she missed, thought Anton, in scoffing contempt, as he sat bending forwards. His coarse-fisted hands lay like clods on his thick knees; and the tops of his Wellington boots showed round under the trouser-legs. His waistcoat was undone; so were the two top buttons of his trousers; and Stefanie could just see his braces.
"You know more about history than I thought," he grinned.