‘Isn’t it wonderful? And see how it suits me! Look, Paulerl!’ she cried, pointing to her new fur coat. ‘Feel how soft it is! I put it on at once; it’s quite chilly enough to wear a fur coat, isn’t it? And it’s so light, as light as a feather! You don’t even feel it — no more than a bathrobe. And now I need a new hat to go with it, a little felt hat, perfectly plain …’

‘Sit down for a minute, my dear,’ interrupted her husband, who had risen to greet her when she came in. ‘How can Herr Gurdweill do his work when you create such a commotion?’

‘Ah, Herr Gurdweill!’ She finally noticed his presence in the room and offered him a hand in a white woolly glove. ‘Please forgive me. I didn’t see you sitting there in your corner, ha-ha-ha! And what do you think of my new fur coat? I’ve just bought it, this very minute!’

Gurdweill cast an expert eye on the brown and white fur and pronounced: ‘Very nice! It suits you very well, madam.’

‘Doesn’t it! Feel it please, Herr Gurdweill. The latest fashion!’

‘But the hat doesn’t go with it …’ said Gurdweill deliberately. ‘It needs something simpler, a little cloche, black I’d say …’

‘Of course, of course, I’m going to buy one right away. You see, Paulerl, Herr Gurdweill is an expert on women’s fashions. He thinks I need a new hat too!’

‘Very well, my dear, you shall have one. But what’s the rush? You can buy it this afternoon. There’s plenty of time for it this afternoon. The hat won’t spoil in the meantime.’

‘No, no, I have to have it right away! This afternoon I won’t have time. At three the manicurist’s coming, and then at five I’m meeting Malvina Holtzer — you know her, she just came back from Munich yesterday.’

‘But it’s already twelve o’clock,’ Dr Kreindel tried again. ‘Time for lunch!’

‘It won’t take long,’ his wife insisted. ‘Fifteen minutes at the most. The shop’s right next door. You go home and I’ll follow you straight away.’

Dr Kreindel had no alternative. Having failed to postpone this latest extravagance to at least the afternoon, he was obliged to hand the money over there and then, and his wife was gone in a flash.

Gurdweill gave him the letters to sign, took his hat and coat, and left the office. In the shop the cashier stopped him with a smile.

‘Are you off to lunch already, Herr Gurdweill? Perhaps you’d like to go to a concert this evening? I have two tickets. Beethoven’s Ninth with Salk.’

‘What’s this, Fräulein Koppler, are you trying to seduce a married man?’ joked the red-headed salesman, who had just finished emptying a carton of books and was stretching luxuriously.