"Like Christmas," said Lina happily amid all her junk, giving us a red hand in farewell.
The smith took us aside a moment.
"Look here," said he, "if you ever have anyone you want socked—I live in Leibnitzstrasse sixteen, rear court, second staircase on the left.
If it's more, then I'll come with my gang."
"That's agreed," we replied and drove off.
As we turned the corner of the amusement park, Gottfried pointed out the window. There was our pram—a real child in it, and a pale, still rather agitated woman beside it, examining it.
"Good, eh?" observed Gottfried.
"Take her the teddy bears!" cried Patricia Hollmann. "They belong with it."
"One perhaps," said Lenz. "You must keep one."
"No, both."
"All right." Lenz sprang out of the car, threw the plush things into the woman's arms, and, before she could say a word, dashed off as if he were pursued. "So," said he, out of breath, "now I begin to feel quite sick at my own nobility.
Put me down at the International.
I must absolutely have a brandy."
He got out and I took the girl home.
It was different from last time.
She stood in the doorway and the light from the lamps flickered over her face.
She looked lovely.
I should have liked to go in with her.
"Good night," said I, "sleep well."
"Good night." She gave me her hand and went up the steps.
I watched her until the light went out.
Then I drove off in the Cadillac.
I felt extraordinary.
It was not like other nights when one had been crazy about some girl.
There was tenderness in it. Tenderness, and the desire to be able for once to let go.
I went to Lenz at the International.
It was almost empty.
In one corner sat Fritzi with her friend Alois, the waiter.
They were quarrelling.
Gottfried was sitting on the sofa by the bar with Mimi and Wally.
He was charming with them both, especially Mimi, poor old creature.
The girls left soon.
They must be about their business; now was the best time.
Mimi groaned and sighed for her varicose veins.
I sat down beside Gottfried.
"Now fire away," said I.
"What for, Bob?" he replied to my amazement. "It's quite right, what you're doing."
I was relieved that he took it so quietly.
"I used to sing a different tune," said I.
He waved his hand.
"Nonsense."
I ordered a rum.
"You know," said I then;
"I haven't the least idea who she is or anything.
Nor how she stands with Binding.
Did he say anything to you?"
He looked at me.
"Does that worry you?"
"No."
"Thought not.