"Yes," said I; "but you remind me of no one I ever saw there."
She plucked a leaf from the rose she wore and began nibbling at it.
Her mouth was smaller than the one belonging to Phyllis.
"The person to whom I refer," I went on, "lives in America, where your
compatriots brew fine beer and wax rich."
"Ah, Herr is an American? I like Americans," archly. "They are so
liberal."
I laughed, but I did not tell her why. All foreigners have a great
love of Americans--"They are so liberal."
"So you find Americans liberal? Is it with money or with compliments?"
Said Gretchen: "The one when they haven't the other."
A very bright barmaid, thought I.
Then I said: "Is this your home?"
"Yes," said Gretchen. "I was born here and I have tended the roses for
ever so long."
"I have heard of Gretchen of the steins, but I never before heard of a
Gretchen of the roses."
"Herr must have a large store of compliments on hand to begin this
early."
"It is a part of my capital," said I. "Once in Switzerland I
complimented an innkeeper, and when my bill was presented I found that
all extras had been crossed off.
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