We had had fights for the same reason before now.
The fellow got out.
He was big and heavy and had on a soft, brown camel's-hair coat.
Displeased, he took a long look at Karl, then pulled off a pair of thick, yellow gloves and came forward.
"What do you call it, your contraption?" he asked Koster, who stood nearest, with a face like a vinegar bottle.
We all three looked at him without replying.
Evidently he took us for mechanics in our Sunday togs, out for a run on the quiet.
"Did you say something?" asked Otto finally in a dubious tone, to teach him to be more polite.
The chap flushed.
"I asked about the car there," he announced abruptly in the same tone as before.
Lenz straightened himself up.
His great nose flicked.
He was extraordinarily particular about politeness in others.
But before he could open his mouth, suddenly, as if by a ghostly hand, the second door of the Buick opened—a dainty foot slid out, a slim leg, a knee followed—then out stepped a girl and walked slowly toward us.
Surprised, we looked at one another.
We had not noticed before that there was somebody else in the car.
Lenz changed "his attitude immediately.
He was smiles all over his freckled face.
We were suddenly all smiling—why, God only knows.
The fat chap looked at us rather disconcerted.
He became unsure of himself and evidently did not know, any more, what to make of the business.
"Binding," said he at last with a slight bow, as if this name at least were something he could be sure of.
The girl had now come up.
We became still more friendly.
"Show them the car, Otto," said Lenz, with a swift glance at Koster.
"Why not?" replied Otto, returning his glance with an amused twinkle.
"I should like very much to see it," said Binding, already more conciliatory. "Must be damned fast.
Just wiped me right off the map."
The two went across to the parking place and Koster lifted up Karl's bonnet.
The girl did not go.
Slim and silent she stood beside Lenz and me in the twilight.
I expected Gottfried to profit by the opportunity and get busy like a bomb.
He was made for such situations.
But he seemed to have lost the faculty of speech.
Ordinarily he could woo like a turkey cock—but now he just stood like a Carmelite monk on leave and did not stir.
"You must forgive us," said I at last. "We did not see you were in the car.
Else we should not have behaved so absurdly just now."
The girl looked at me.
"But why not?" she replied calmly, in a surprisingly deep voice. "There was nothing at all bad about it."
"Bad, no; but not quite fair.
That car can do around two hundred kilometres."
She leaned forward a little and put her hands into the pockets of her coat.
"Two hundred kilometres?" she asked.
"One hundred and eighty-nine point two, to be exact, official register," answered Lenz like a pistol shot proudly.
She laughed.
"And we thought about sixty or seventy."
"Well, you see," said I, "you couldn't know, could you?"
"No," she replied, "we certainly couldn't.
We thought the Buick was twice as fast as your car."
"That may be." I kicked aside a broken twig with my foot. "But we had too big an advantage.