"Yes, me," said I poisojnously. "Your powers of association are unsurpassed, Frau Zalewski—"
She looked at me.
An entire thunderstorm of ideas passed over her fat face, ending in a broad initiated smirk.
"Aha!" said she.
And again "Aha!" And then from outside, over her shoulder, with relish transfigured by woman's eternal delight in such discoveries: "So, that's how it is!"
"Yes, that's how it is, damned old witch," I growled after her when I was sure she could not hear me.
Then I flung the box with my new patent leather shoes on the floor.
A rich man—as if I didn't know that.
I called for Pat.
She was in her room already dressed and waiting.
It almost took my breath away when I saw her.
For the first time since I had known her she was wearing evening dress.
The frock was of silver brocade and hung in graceful smooth lines from the straight shoulders.
It looked narrow and was yet wide enough not to impede Pat's lovely, long stride.
In front it came up high to the neck, but the back was cut away to a deep sharp angle.
In it Pat gave the effect of a silver torch in the blue twilight, swiftly and amazingly changed, dignified and remote.
Behind her like a shadow' rose the ghost of Frau Zalewski with uplifted finger.
"It's as well I didn't meet you first in that dress," said I. "I would never have trusted myself near you."
"I don't believe that just on your say-so, Robby.". She smiled. "Do you like it?" "It's simply incredible.
You are an entirely new woman in it."
"That's not incredible, though.
That's what clothes are for."
"Maybe.
But it floors me a bit.
You want a very different man to match it.
One with lots of money."
She laughed.
"Men with lots of money are mostly awful, Robby."
"But not money, eh?"
"No." said she, "not money."
"I thought as much."
"Don't you think so, then?"
"Sure," said I.
"Money may not make happiness—but it can be a great comfort."
"It makes one independent, darling, and that's still more.
But I can put on another dress if you like."
"Absolutely not.
It's superb.
From this day forth I place dressmakers above philosophers.
Those people bring beauty into life, and that's worth a hundred times the most unfathomable meditations.
But look out, or I'll be falling in love with you."
She laughed.
Stealthily I glanced down at myself.
Koster was bigger than I, and I had had to do some tricky work with safety-pins on the trousers to make them sit decently.
They did sit, praise be.
We drove to the theatre in a taxi.
On the way I was rather silent, without knowing quite why.
As we got out and I was paying, I glanced, as under some compulsion, at the driver.
His eyes were strained and red-rimmed, he was unshaven and looked very tired.
He took the money indifferently.