If he became at all interested in conversation with any one, she always interrupted. Her face grew hard, her right foot began to move; and if this did not suffice, she struck in with sulky or provoking remarks, no matter who was there.
If something were said in praise of any one, and it seemed to excite his interest, she would pooh-pooh it, literally with a "pooh!" a shrug of the shoulders, a toss of the head, or an impatient tap of the foot.
At first he imagined that she really knew something disadvantageous about all those whom she thus disparaged, and he was filled with admiration at her acquaintance with half Norway. He believed in her veracity as he believed in few things. He believed, too, that it was unbounded like so many of her qualities. She said the most cynical things in the plainest manner without apparent design.
But little by little it dawned upon him that she said precisely what it pleased her to say, according to the humour that she was in.
One day, as they were going to table—he had come in late and was hungry—he was delighted to see that there were oysters.
"Oysters! at this time of the year," he cried. "They must be very expensive."
"Pooh! that was the old woman, you know. She persuaded me to take them for you. I got them for next to nothing."
"That was odd; you have been out, then, too?"
"Yes, and I saw YOU; you were walking with Emma Ravn."
He understood at once, by the tone of her voice, that this was not permitted, but all the same he said, "Yes; how sweet she is! so fresh and candid."