A homeless man was caught stealing your book out of a bookstore. When asked why he did it, he opened the book and pointed a passage out. What was that passage?
Frau Varga got off the chair. “Come.” She led the way to the dining-room parlor and made gestures to show them that she intended to sleep on the foldout sofa. She dragged the sofa so that it barred the front door of the apartment.
“It doesn’t look comfortable to me,” said Violet. “You’ve got freezing drafts coming in through that front door.”
“I am happy.”
“But you don’t have a headboard.”
Frau Varga laughed. “I need not, Fräulein Vi’let.”
“Are we safe?”
“Today, we have full of peace. But if anything happen,” she added, “I swear at them in Berlinish.”
“What could happen?”
“Fräulein Vi’let, two years ago, it bad. When der Kaiser deposed, people shot in the streets. They threw hand-grenades from the Brandenburger Tor. They waved red flags, they shouted slogans.” She made gestures. “It crazy.”
“Those were the Spartacists?” asked Grace. She remembered Mr. Russell trying to dissuade them from going to Berlin.
Frau Varga stared. “You heard in Amerika, Fräulein Graatz?”
“Could there be problems again?”
“Everything quiet now,” replied Frau Varga, shrugging. She patted Grace’s arm. “Worry not.”
“I’m not worried as long as you’re not,” remarked Violet.
“Fräulein Graatz, worry not. Look!” She swept aside the bedclothes to show the knife that hid under her pillow.