She entered the dining-room of the pension, flushed and breathless from the stairs, and found it nearly empty, most of the guests having already finished. Fru Bjork, who liked to take things easily, was still busy with a slice of cold meat, and Astrid picked daintily at an orange with slender fingers.
"Wherever have you been, so long, Ragna?" she asked.
"Did you get the photographs in the Corso?"
"Yes,—or at least no," answered Ragna in some confusion. "It was such a lovely morning I went for a walk instead. I thought I would leave the photographs till you could come with me to choose them." Lying did not come easily to her, and her awkwardness would have betrayed her at once to a keen observer, but Fru Bjork was too unobservant to notice it and Astrid felt confused herself, owing to her failure to be ready to go out as she had promised.
Ragna sat down in her place, removing her gloves as she did so. She poured herself a glass of water, but her hand shook and the water streamed over the table cloth. Fru Bjork, seeing it, said kindly,
"My dear, you should not run up the stairs so fast,—it is bad for the heart. You are too young to think about such things, but when you are my age you will know."
Ragna blushed, thinking of the real reason of her excitement, and the good lady continued anxiously:
"And how flushed your face is, my dear! Oh really, really, you must be more careful!"
She was interrupted by Ragna's other neighbour, an old Swedish lady, whose long nose seemed to rest on her chin and that again on her voluminous bosom tightly sheathed in striped silk, and adorned by a cameo brooch and a frill of lace that had seen fresher days. She laid her mittened hand on Ragna's arm, and said:
"My sweet one, will you choose an orange, the very nicest one, for me? My poor eyes are so bad that I am afraid to trust them." She had drawn the fruit dish over to her and appeared to be trying the efficacy of her nose in selecting fruit.