was sure she would not like it. He was taking for granted that she was accustomed to beer, and would not know that she was having a tremendous adventure. To him it did not seem either shocking or vulgar. Protected by his unconsciousness she would get perhaps further than ever before into the secret of Germany. She took a small sip and shuddered. The foamy surface was pleasant; but the strange biting bitterness behind it was like some sudden formidable personal attack.
“That is the first time I’ve tasted beer,” she said, “I don’t like it.”
“You have not yet tasted it. You must swallow, not sip.”
“It makes your throat sore. It’s so bitter. I always imagined beer was sweet.”
“There is perhaps something a little acid in this imported Lager; but the bitterness is most good. It is this biting quality that is a most excellent apératif. We will have also honey cakes.”