“At least here you shall have an honest meal. Kellner! ”
She did not want to eat; only to sit and hear the deep German voices all round her and take in, without observation, kindly German forms.
“Simply you are too tired. We will have at least some strong soup and Lager.”
The familiar smooth savoury broth abolished the years since she had left Germany. Once more she was finding the genuine honest German quality reflected in the completeness of their food; all of it even the bread, savoury and good through and through, satisfying in a way no English food was satisfying, making English food seem poor, ill-combined, either heavy and dull, or too exciting. She saw German kitchens, alles rein und sauber, blank poliert , large bony low-browed angry-voiced German servants in check dresses and blue aprons, everlastingly responsibly at work.
And here was Lager, the Lager of the booming musical German cafés. She