“I did not say so, Frau Schultz.”
“Ah, but you thought so. It is the way you all have. Nothing is good but what you put your seal to.”
It was decidedly not a pleasant walk. Frau Schultz took up the parable of the narrow-minded Englishman, and expounded it through the bise. Felicia longed for home. To try to turn the conversation into a calmer channel, she took advantage of a lull, and inquired after Frau Schultz's daughter. The ingenious device succeeded.
Lottchen's early history lasted until they reached their own street. Felicia did not know whether to hate Lottchen for being such a paragon, or to pity her for being so parented. At last she made a rash remark.
“I don't think you gave Frâulein Schultz much chance of doing anything wrong.”
“I was her mother,” replied Frau Schultz with dignity, “and in Germany young girls obey their mothers and respect the mothers of other young girls. If I had spoken to a German girl as I did to you this morning, she would have been grateful.”
“I am very sorry, Frau Schultz, but I don't like to hear my friends spoken ill of.”
“I wanted to save you from those friends. I say again, Mrs. Stapleton is not the person I should let my innocent daughter associate with.”
Felicia fired up. They were within a few yards of the entrance to the pension. “You know nothing whatever against Mrs. Stapleton. I think it very unkind of you.”
“So! Ask her where her husband is.”