The girl was not for me, of course.
What was I, anyway?
A pedestrian who once borrowed a Cadillac, an uncouth schnapps drinker, that was all.
The sort of thing you could pick up at any street corner.
Already I saw the porter at the
"Bunch of Grapes" salute Binding, I saw bright, warm, elegant rooms, clouds of cigarette smoke, and smart people, I heard music and laughter—laughter at me.
Back, thought I, back quickly.
An idea, a hope—that was already a great deal. It was senseless to get entangled on the strength of that. There was nothing for it but back.
"We could meet to-morrow night perhaps," said Patricia Hollmann.
"I've no time to-morrow evening," I replied.
"Well, the day after, or sometime during the week.
I have nothing on the next few days."
"It would be difficult," said I. "We got a rush job in to-day, we'll probably have to work on it well into the night the whole week."
It was a swindle, but I could not help it.
There was too much cold anger and humiliation in me.
We crossed the square and went along the street toward the graveyard.
From the direction of the International I saw Rosa approaching.
Her high boots were gleaming.
I could have turned off, and at another time probably would have done so; but now I kept straight on toward her.
Rosa looked me over as if we were total strangers.
That was a matter of course; none of these girls recognise one when one is not alone.
"Day, Rosa," said I.
Taken aback she looked first at me, then at Patricia Hollmann, nodded hastily and walked on embarrassed.
A few paces behind her came Fritzi, dangling a handbag, with very red lips and swaying hips.
She looked through me indifferently as if I had been a pane of glass.
"Gruss Gott, Fritzi," said I.
She inclined her head like a queen and in no way betrayed her astonishment; but I heard her pace quicken when she was past—she was going to discuss the matter with Rosa.
I might still have turned into a bystreet, for I knew the rest would also be coming—it was just the time for the first big patrol.
But in a sort of spite I kept on— why should I avoid them? I knew them a sight better than I did the girl beside me with her Binding and his Buick.
She should see—see it thoroughly.
There they came, past the long row of street lamps— Wally, the beautiful, pale, slim, elegant; Lina with the wooden leg; the strapping Erria; Marion the chicken; Margot of the red cheeks; the pansy, Kiki, in a. squirrel coat; and lastly Mimi, the grandmother with the varicose veins, looking as shabby as an owl.
I greeted every one, and when we came to Mother at the sausage stall, I shook her vigorously by the hand.
"You have a lot of acquaintances here," said Patricia Hollmann after a while.
"Yes, of a sort," I replied bluntly.
I noticed that she looked at me.
"I think we should turn round now," said she after a time.
"Yes," I replied. "I think so too."
We stopped at the house door.
"Good luck," said I, "and lots of fun."
She did not answer.
With some difficulty I detached my eyes from the press-button on the door and looked at her.
And really—I hardly believed my eyes—there she stood, and, instead of being thoroughly snappy, around her lips there was a twitching, her eyes twinkled; and then she laughed, heartily and untrammelled—simply laughed at me.
"You baby," said she, "O God, what a baby you are!"
I stared at her.
"Well, if you—" said I then. "Anyway—" and suddenly I saw the situation. "You find me a bit idiotic, I suppose, eh?" "One might put it that way."
She looked marvellous, her face flickered over by the lamplight—young, merry and beautiful.
Swiftly I took a step forward and drew her to me, let her think what she may.
Her silky hair brushing my cheek, her face close in front of mine, I detected the faint peach smell of ber skin; then her eyes came nearer and suddenly I felt her lips on my mouth. . . .
She was gone before I rightly knew what had happened.
Like a brindled ass I stood looking after her. "Holy Moses!" said I then, out loud. I retraced my steps and passed Mother's sausage stall once more. "Give me a large bockwurst," said I, beaming.