“You look rather pale after the celebration last night,” was the first thing Mogens said.
“Good-morning,” she replied and held out without turning around her hand with the flowers in it towards him. Mogens took one of the flowers. Laura turned the head half towards him, opened her hand slightly and let the flowers fall to the floor in little lots. Then she again busied herself with the vase.
“Ill?” asked Mogens.
“Tired.”
“I won’t eat breakfast with you to-day.”
“No?”
“We can’t have dinner together either.”
“You are going fishing?”
“No—Good-by!”
“When are you coming back?”