A chap with a nose like a duck's bill and a loud checked suit was sitting at the wheel.
I gazed after the car for some time.
That comes of a woman sitting alone in a house all the time.
Pensively I drove back to the stand and took my place in the line of waiting taxis.
The sun beat upon the roof.
We moved forward slowly.
I sat dully on the box and tried to sleep.
But I could not get the picture of Frau Hasse out of my head.
It was quite a different matter, but when all was said and done Pat was also alone all day.
I got out and went forward to Gustav's car.
"Here, have a drink," he commanded, offering me a thermos flask. "Wonderfully cool.
My own invention. Iced coffee.
Stays like that in the heat for hours.
Yes, Gustav is practical."
I took a cup and drank it out.
"If you're so practical," said I, "then tell me what can a man get to amuse a woman who is alone a lot?"
"As simple as that?" Gustav looked at me with a lofty expression.
"Robert, man—why, a child or a dog.
Ask me something harder."
"A dog!" said I in surprise. "Damn it, of course, a dogl You've hit it.
With a dog one is never lonely."
I offered him a cigarette.
"Listen, you don't happen to know about them?
A mongrel must be fairly cheap to buy."
Gustav shook his head reproachfully. "Ah Robert, you little know what a treasure you have in me.
My future father-in-law is assistant secretary of the Dobermann Terrier Club.
You can have a pup, of course; first class pedigree, too.
We've a litter there: four-two, grandmother the champion Hertha von Toggenburg."
Gustav was a fortunate man.
Not only was his fiancee's father a breeder of Dobermanns, but he was a pub-keeper as well, proprietor of the Neuerklaus; and his fiancee herself had a laundry.
Gustav did himself proud.
He had his eats and drinks off his "father-in-law" and his fiancee washed and ironed his shirts.
He was in no hurry to marry. Then it would be his turn to worry.
I explained to Gustav that a Dobermann was not quite the right idea.
It was too big for me and not reliable.
Gustav reflected a moment. As an old soldier he was accustomed to act on the spur of the moment.
"Just come with me," said he.
"We'll do a bit of speculating.
I know something.
Only don't you put your spoke in."
"Right."
He led me to a little shop.
In the window were aquariums full of algae.
In a box were squatting some wretched guinea pigs.
On the sides hung, cages with restlessly hopping, forever turning bullfinches, goldfinches, and canaries.
A bandy-legged little chap with a brown embroidered waistcoat came toward us.
Watery eyes, sallow skin, a nose like a fire ball—a beer and schnapps drinker.
"Say, Anton," said Gustav, "how did Asta do?"
"Second prize and honourable mention at Cologne," replied Anton.
"Lousy," declared Gustav. "Why not first?"