It mattered nothing to me
whether he took me for an Englishman or a Zulu; either answered the
purpose.
He wore an eyeglass, through which he surveyed me rather contemptuously.
"What is your name, fraulein?" he asked turning to Gretchen.
"Gretchen," sweetly.
"And what is the toll for a kiss?"
"Nothing," said Gretchen, looking at me. The lieutenant started for
her, but she waved him off. "Nothing, Herr Lieutenant, because they
are not for sale."
I moved closer to the bar.
"Out for a constitutional?" I asked, blowing the ash from the live coal
in my pipe.
"We are on his Majesty's business," with an intonation which implied
that the same was none of mine. "Gretchen, we shall return to-night,
so you may lay two plates at a separate table," with an eye on me. He
couldn't have hated me any more than I hated him. "Then, there is no
way of getting a kiss?"
"No," said Gretchen.
"Then I'll blow you one;" and Gretchen made a pretty curtesey.
I nearly bit the amber stem off my pipe. They were soon gone, and I
was glad of it.
"Herr Jack is angry," said Gretchen.
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