"You are staying here for some time, Doctor?" the latter asked. He looked at her, but the expression of her face was quite non-committal.
"That depends," he said. "Probably not very long—just until I have disposed of my affairs."
Sabine nodded absently. The servant came in to set the table.
"You will stay and have supper with us, won't you?" the mother asked. He hesitated before replying; again his gaze sought an answer in Sabine's eyes.
"Of course you will stay and eat with us, Doctor. We have been counting definitely on you."
Graesler felt that it was not kindness she was showing him—mercy, perhaps. He nodded his head mutely. As everyone was silent and this was especially painful to him, he began in a lively fashion:
"First of all I must look up Doctor Frank to-morrow. For only think of it, ladies, he did not even let me have an answer to my last letter. But I am still in hopes that we can come to an agreement."
"Too late," Sabine coolly interposed, and Graesler felt immediately that she was not referring only to the business opportunity he had missed. "Doctor Frank," Sabine then explained, "has made up his mind to continue managing the establishment himself. For the last few days they have been busily at work renovating the place. Your friend Adelmann, the architect, has undertaken the job."
"No friend of mine," said Graesler, "or he would have found some way of letting me know." And he shook his head gravely and slowly, as though he had experienced a bitter disappointment at the hands of the architect.
"Under those circumstances," Sabine remarked politely, "I suppose you will be going south again."
"Yes, of course," Graesler responded quickly. "Back to my good little island of Lanzarote. Yes . . . In fact this climate—! Who knows whether I am still equal to one of these mid-European winters."
To be concluded
