"Not hungry," she said.

"But it is one of the best pieces, and full of the fat."

He cleared the plate; then pulled off his boots and flung them into a
corner.

"Not much of a wedding," he said, stretching out his feet and wriggling his
toes in the worsted socks.

"N--no," she replied, taking up the discarded boots and placing them on the
oven to dry.

Herr Brechenmacher yawned and stretched himself, and then looked up at her,
grinning.

"Remember the night that we came home? You were an innocent one, you
were."

"Get along! Such a time ago I forget." Well she remembered.

"Such a clout on the ear as you gave me...But I soon taught you."

"Oh, don't start talking. You've too much beer. Come to bed."

He tilted back in his chair, chuckling with laughter.

"That's not what you said to me that night. God, the trouble you gave me!"