Astrid was rather taken aback by this sudden volte-face.
"I don't know that I have an opinion, I never thought much about him at all. He is a clever man, but curious; there seemed to be two of him, one very plausible and the other quite rude and rough. He is rather handsome in a way, and his family, I believe, is quite good. I could see when we were in Florence that he had his eye on Ragna—"
"Did she seem to like him then?" asked Ingeborg eagerly.
"I can't say she did, more than as a friend, but then it is hard to tell, Ragna is such a self-contained sort of girl. It struck me though,—but this is just between you and me,—that she had something on her mind, something that was worrying her, and that she took up the drawing and Valentini as a sort of distraction. It began in Rome, from the Carnival on she was not the same."
Ingeborg wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully, and nodded her head.
"Yes, now I think of it, there was a change in her letters too—but from there to marrying this man! Do you know, Astrid, in her letter to Aunt Gitta, never once did she say that she was in love with him and that is the only thing that would explain."
Astrid was standing before the mirror, fluffing her hair; she turned at Ingeborg's last words, and set her hands on her hips.
"Ingeborg, if I were you, I'd get to the bottom of this, there's something mysterious about it."
"No," said Ingeborg, "I won't pry; if Ragna had wished me to know, she would have told me. As long as she doesn't, I wouldn't spy on her for all the world. She must have some good reason, it's not like her to fly off at a tangent!"
"If you knew more, you might be able to help her, to explain things to your Aunt."