An attack of _katzenjammer_--such as is scarcely ever spared worldly
people of forty--threw a sobering shadow upon this event. The shadow
crept forward too, and presaged annoyance.

He was such an old hand now, and didn't even know into what category
she really fitted. Was it, after all, impossible that behind all this
frivolity the desire to take up the struggle for existence on cleanly
terms stuck in her little head?

At all events he determined to spare the possible wounding of outraged
womanliness and to wait before putting any final stamp upon the nature
of their relations. Hence he set out to play the tender lover by means
of the well-tried device of a bunch of Indian lilies.

When he was about to give the order for the flowers to John who
always, upon these occasions, assumed a conscientiously stupid
expression, a new doubt overcame him.

Was he not desecrating the gift which had brought consolation and
absolution to many a remorseful heart, by sending it to a girl who,
for all he knew, played a sentimental part only as a matter of decent
form? ... Wasn't there grave danger of her assuming an undue
self-importance when she felt that she was taken tragically?

"Well, what did it matter? ... A few flowers! ..."

Early on the evening of the next day Meta reappeared. She was dressed
in sombre black. She wept persistently and made preparations to stay.

Niebeldingk gave her to understand that, in the first place, he had no