He spoke quietly, and she half made out what he said, and managed to half translate that from what little German she knew. From the quarter-sense she thus derived, she made an educated guess that he was commenting on how blue the sky was and how pretty. When Cabal touched upon the purely aesthetic, it was time for extreme measures. A few stinging slaps later, and he was more or less composed. ‘Did I say anything?’ he muttered, sweeping his hair back in a distracted fashion.
