“So I saw. Did you like it?”
“Not very much.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too sad,” she explained. “An’ I don’t like cripples.”
“Of course!” he broke out. “I forgot that you love only joy and happy people.”
“An’ freedom,” she concluded unconsciously.
“Certainly, and freedom,” he agreed.
He caught a glimpse of her eyes—eyes that could love you to-day and hate you to-morrow—and felt still more reconciled with circumstances. Erna craved freedom, and was free. She could take care of herself. She possessed that rare thing, the life-controlling temperament. Perhaps, she would not need even Jimmy Allen. How splendid she was! Would she hate him to-morrow? It would be a shame. He had only to raise his hand—and they could continue. But he must not, it would be so much better for her. She would be miserable with him: an artist and not a physical man. She belonged to Jimmy—and still more, to herself. He must not interfere, but leave her destiny to destiny. Nielsen felt almost completely relieved.
“You love your work, don’t you?” Erna announced with unexpected candor.
Nielsen looked at her with sharpened eyes. She was glorious. She had emphasized “love” and not “work.” He could scarcely reply.