CHAPTER VIII
“I could wish we were not married, Cordt,” said Fru Adelheid.
She laid her arms across her breast and looked at him with deep, dark eyes:
“I could wish I were your mistress. If it meant that, all would be over and done with in the morning. Then there would be no more of this unpleasantness. And no fear, either. And the joys we have would be all the fairer.”
He stood by the fire and played with the keys in his pocket.
“Then your forehead would be smooth and your eyes bright, Cordt, for then you would be making love to me.”
He looked up and said gently:
“Don’t I make love to you, Adelheid?”