“Why, that you know I am, Egholm. But you wouldn’t ask me to go running out now in the middle of the night. Look, it’s half-past one!”
“But you say you never can go out in the daytime.”
This was true; Anna never set foot outside the door as long as it was light. Her dress had been ruined altogether this winter, from having to use it for Emanuel’s bedclothes at night. And what was the use of having rooms across a courtyard, when Andreasen’s workmen came running to the window every time they heard the door?
“But the lamp might upset, and the house burn down and the children in it.”
“Turn it out, then, of course. Don’t talk such a lot.”
Fru Egholm writhed; there was no persuading him any way once he had taken a thing into his head.
Hesitatingly she took out a white knitted kerchief from a drawer. She had almost forgotten what it was like to put on one’s things to go out....
It was moonlight outside; the shadow of the tall workshop roof lay coal-black over half the courtyard, leaving the remainder white as if it had been lime-washed.
Every step she took seemed new and strange. So softly their steps fell in the thick dust as they crossed the road.