"Disgusting!" she replied.
The man now passed close beside them, scanning them carefully. Kallem returned the glance, and when they had gone past they turned to have a mutual look at each other. An old woman came hobbling along.
"Who is that man?" asked Kallem. She looked at him and then after the man.
"It is Kristen Larssen."
"Is he a locksmith?"
"What kind do you say?"
"Locksmith!"
"Yes, he is. But he is also a watchmaker and gunsmith; in fact, everything you like."
The beach street was open to the sea, and without even a stone wall in front of it. Things lay rotting in the sea as also on land. There was an unfinished appearance about the whole town; a large house next to a small one, then a house built of stone, then a wooden one, all of them erected in haste and as cheaply as possible. The houses were not even in a line, the street was on the whole scarcely bearable. The people they met were neither town nor country folk, they were "wary but friendly," as Kallem said; "medium goods."
They had now arrived at the market-place, where the road turned up to the church, tall and graceful. It was here they had met Josephine on their way up; for up to the right by the church, in a park, lay their house with the garden in front; they could, however, not see it from where they were.