After the lamp was out he lay for a while, listening to her breathing. Then at last:
“Louise.”
“Yes?”
“Is your father—was his name Hagen?”
“Yes. It says so on the certificate.”
“Then you’re Froken Hagen. Sounds quite fine, doesn’t it?”
“Uf! Now you’re making fun of me.”
“And when you’re a midwife, Froken Hagen might quite well marry a doctor, you know.”
“Silly! There’s no chance—with hands like mine.”
“Do you think your hands are too big for you to marry a doctor?”