abruptly, in a tone which he meant to be easy, but which was only
jaunty: "And how do you like being in Germany, Miss Cayhill? Does it
not seem very strange after America?"

Johanna lifted her shortsighted eyes to his face, and looked coolly
and disconcertingly at him through her glasses, as if she had just
become aware of his presence.

"Strange? Why should it?" she asked in an unfriendly tone.

"Why, what I mean is, everything must be so different here from what
you are accustomed to--at least it is from what we are used to in
England," he corrected himself. "The ways and manners, and the
language, and all that sort of thing, you know."

"Excuse me, I do not know," she answered in the same tone as before.
"If a person takes the trouble to prepare himself for residence in a
foreign country, nothing need seem either strange or surprising. But
English people, as is well known, expect to find a replica of England
in every country they go to."

There was a pause, in which James, the pianist, who was a regular
visitor, approached to have his cup refilled. All the circle knew, of
course, that Johanna was "doing for a new man"; and it seemed to
Maurice that James half closed one eye at him, and gave him a small,
sympathetic nudge with his elbow.

So he held to his guns. When James had retired, he began anew, without
preamble.