Without any anxiety about it, he began to talk to Bertha with the idea of a subsequent meeting. He had wished to avoid her because she had embodied for him the evening of the dance, and appeared to him in its disquieting colours. What he sought unconsciously now was a certain quietude, enlivened by healthy appetites. He had disconnected her with his great Night.
“I was cracked the other night. I’m not often in that state,” he said. Bertha’s innuendoes had to be recognized.
“I’m glad of that,” she answered.
As to Bertha, to have been kissed and those things, under however eccentric circumstances, gave a man certain rights on your interest.
“I’m afraid I was rather rude to Fräulein Lipmann before leaving. Did she tell you about it?”
“I think you were rude to everybody!”
“Ah, well⸺”
“I must be going. My lunch⸺”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Have I kept you from your lunch? I wonder if you would procure me the extreme pleasure of seeing you again?”
Bertha looked at him in doubtful astonishment, taking in this sensational request.