We must get you dressed."
She opened her eyes and smiled, still warm from sleep, like a child.
I never ceased to be astonished at this cheerfulness on waking, and liked it in her very much.
I am never cheerful when I wake.
"Pat—Frau Zalewski is cleaning her teeth."
"I'm staying with you to-day—"
"Her?"
"Yes."
I sat up.
"Splendid idea—but your things—these shoes and dress are for evening."
"Then I'll stay here till evening."
"And what about home?"
"We'll telephone that I've stayed somewhere for the night."
"We'll do it now.
Are you hungry?"
"Not yet."
"In any case I'll dash out and grab a few fresh rolls.
They're hanging outside on the passage door.
Now's just about the time."
When I came back Pat was standing at the window.
She had on only her silver shoes.
The soft of early morning fell like a shawl over her shoulders.
"We've forgotten about yesterday, eh, Pat?" said I.
She nodded without turning round.
"We simply won't go any more together with other people. True love can't abide people. Then we won't have any more rows and attacks of jealousy.
This Breuer and the whole set can go to the devil, eh?"
"Yes," said she, "and Markowitz too."
"Markowitz?
Who's that then?"
"The one you sat with in the bar at
'The Cascade.'"
"Aha," said I, suddenly rather pleased. "Aha, that one."
I turned out my pockets.
"Look at that now.
It did serve some useful purpose anyway.
I won a heap of money at poker.
Now we'll go out again, to-night, eh?
But properly, without other people.
We have forgotten them, eh?"
She nodded.
The sun rose behind the roofs of the Trades Hall.
Windows began to glitter.
Pat's hair was full of light and her shoulders were golden.
"What was it you said, what does this Breuer do actually?
As a profession, I mean?"
"Architect."
"Architect," said I, rather winged—I would sooner have heard he was nothing at all—"Well, after all—architect; what's that anyway, eh, Pat?"
"Yes, darling."
"Nothing special, is it?"
"Nothing at all," said Pat with conviction, turning round and laughing.