"What is the matter with him?"
"Well, that is the reason of my coming here," answered Meek.
"You have spoken to my wife?"
"Yes." They both went in. The room was warm and cosy, the piano stood open. Had she been playing when Meek knocked at the door? If that were the case, then she could not be as ill as she looked; he longed to examine her chest.
Meek was more silent and gloomy than ever that day.
"Well," said Kallem, "did you and my wife come to an agreement about Karl?"
Meek looked up at him, rather surprised. "Do you mean about writing to him?"
"Yes. You know there has been one or other knotty point, as was often the case."
"Yes," answered Meek, and remained sitting there quite silent.
"Do you imagine I know anything of it? Not I, not a scrap."