It was over.
'Herr Loerke was giving us a recitation in the Cologne dialect,' said
the Professor.
'He must forgive us for interrupting him,' said Gerald, 'we should like
very much to hear it.'
There was instantly a bowing and an offering of seats. Gudrun and
Ursula, Gerald and Birkin sat in the deep sofas against the wall. The
room was of naked oiled panelling, like the rest of the house. It had a
piano, sofas and chairs, and a couple of tables with books and
magazines. In its complete absence of decoration, save for the big,
blue stove, it was cosy and pleasant.
Herr Loerke was the little man with the boyish figure, and the round,
full, sensitive-looking head, and the quick, full eyes, like a mouse's.
He glanced swiftly from one to the other of the strangers, and held
himself aloof.
'Please go on with the recitation,' said the Professor, suavely, with
his slight authority. Loerke, who was sitting hunched on the piano
stool, blinked and did not answer.
'It would be a great pleasure,' said Ursula, who had been getting the
sentence ready, in German, for some minutes.
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