There was nothing very remarkable about any of the boarders at Casa Dietrich, or if there were, their peculiarities were veiled by the absorbing interest of the moment. Hans Riemann received a good many nods and smiles of friendly greeting from the very mixed specimens of nationalities who dropped in. Some glances of inquiry and interest were bestowed upon his companion, but in the main everyone appeared thoroughly interested in his or her own business. Next to Minna, on her right, sat an intelligent-looking lady, with a clever face and white hair drawn very tightly back from her forehead and twisted into what Minna felt must be a painfully firm knob at the back. An English upper servant would have sniffed at her dress as being too ugly and badly made for anyone with a sense of self-respect to wear. Of course she soon revealed herself as a German, and one who could give a good account of herself in the matter of culture, no matter what her shortcomings as to dressmaking might be. Riemann sat on Minna’s left hand, and opposite to her was an empty place. ‘Well,’ said Minna to herself, ‘they are not distinguished-looking, I must say. Some of them are decidedly odd. Those Americans up at the end of the table are simply awful. The Italian men look a pretty decent sort. The Englishwoman down there at the other end of the table, with the red nose and the round hat and veil--unspeakable, quite. The old Scotchman and his lady-wife are an odd-looking couple; but I must say they don’t stare at one as if one were a wild beast, nor look as if they would take a week to make up their minds whether they should speak to one or not, as they certainly would have done at Mrs. Cartwright’s.--Am I making a long stay?’ she added, turning with a smile to the German lady, who had just asked her a question, and explaining her situation to her.