"I've been looking for you to come in," she lisped.
"Why?"
"I wanted to ask you to buy a ticket for our Waitress Dance, and I did not know at all where you lived." It was a long sentence for her and she giggled.
"Number 5, Wiesenstrasse, Loschwitz."
"Gott im Himmel! That's way off."
"When is your dance?"
"It's to-night. And it's only twelve marks." She fumbled out a ticket from beneath her white apron with a maid's agitation.
"I'll take it," said Gard.
"But you have to promise to go. They want every ticket holder to go."
"Are you going?"