Lorentz Uthoug fixed his gaze on his sister’s face; his red eyes began to glow.
“You’ll have to do it, Marit,” he said calmly. He took a pipe from his pocket and set to work to fill and light it.
The two sat for a while looking at each other, each on the alert for fear the other’s will should prove the stronger. They looked at each other so long that at last both smiled involuntarily.
“I suppose you’ve taken to going to church with your wife now?” asked the widow at last, her eyes blinking derision.
“If I put my trust in the Lord,” he said, “I might just sit down and pray and let things go to ruin. As it is, I’ve more faith in human works, and that’s why I’m here now.”
The answer pleased her. The widow at Bruseth was no churchgoer herself. She thought the Lord had made a bad mistake in not giving her any children.
“Will you have some coffee?” she asked, rising from her seat.
“Now you’re talking sense,” said her brother, and his eyes twinkled. He knew his sister and her ways. And now he lit his pipe and leaned back comfortably in his chair.