almost certain they were Cacilie and Herr Sung.  Their rapid movement apart suggested that they had been walking arm in arm.  Philip was puzzled and surprised.  He had never paid much attention to Fraulein Cacilie.  She was a plain girl, with a square face and blunt features.  She could not have been more than sixteen, since she still wore her long fair hair in a plait.  That evening at supper he looked at her curiously; and, though of late she had talked little at meals, she addressed him.

“Where did you go for your walk today, Herr Carey?” she asked.

“Oh, I walked up towards the Konigstuhl.”

“I didn’t go out,” she volunteered.  “I had a headache.”

The Chinaman, who sat next to her, turned round.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.  “I hope it’s better now.”

Fraulein Cacilie was evidently uneasy, for she spoke again to Philip.

“Did you meet many people on the way?”

Philip could not help reddening when he told a downright lie.

“No.  I don’t think I saw a living soul.”

He fancied that a look of relief passed across her eyes.

Soon, however, there could be no doubt that there was something between the pair, and other people in the Frau Professor’s house saw them lurking in dark places.  The elderly ladies who sat at the head of the table began to discuss what was now a scandal.  The Frau Professor was angry and harassed.  She had done her best to see nothing.  The winter was at hand, and it was not as easy a matter then as in the summer to keep her house full.  Herr Sung was a good customer:  he had two rooms on the ground floor, and he drank a bottle of Moselle at each meal.  The Frau Professor charged him three marks a bottle and made a good profit.  None of her other guests drank wine, and some of them did not even drink beer.  Neither did she wish to lose Fraulein Cacilie, whose parents were in business in South America and paid well for the Frau Professor’s motherly care; and she knew that if she wrote to the girl’s uncle, who lived in Berlin, he would immediately take her away.  The Frau Professor contented herself with giving them both severe looks at table and, though she dared not be rude to the Chinaman, got a certain satisfaction out of incivility to Cacilie.  But the three elderly ladies were not content.  Two were widows, and one, a Dutchwoman, was a spinster of masculine appearance; they paid the smallest possible sum for their pension, and gave a good deal of trouble, but they were permanent and therefore had to be put up with.  They went to the Frau Professor and said that something must be done; it was disgraceful, and the house was ceasing to be respectable.  The Frau Professor tried obstinacy, anger, tears, but the three old ladies routed her, and with a sudden assumption of virtuous indignation she said that she would put a stop to the whole thing.

After luncheon she took Cacilie into her bed-room and began to talk very seriously to her; but to her amazement the girl adopted a brazen attitude; she proposed to go about as she liked; and if she chose to walk with the Chinaman she could not see it was anybody’s business but her own.  The Frau Professor threatened to write to her uncle.