Blad threw down Ormarr’s hat and coat, which he had been carrying; he himself was out of breath, and overpowered with emotion.
“Grahl—dead?” Ormarr sat bowed forward, his hands clasped, his eyes staring vacantly before him. Blad stood watching him for a moment. Then he burst out:
“You—you must be mad!”
“I suppose so—yes.”
“And—you don’t care in the least?”
Ormarr made no reply.
“Think of the scandal of it all!”
Still Ormarr said nothing.
“And then—Grahl! That ought never to have happened.”
“I suppose not.”