Egholm gave a single proud, firm glance towards the land. Then he bent down again over his spanner. The matter was decided. Hedvig tossed her head, fished up Emanuel out of the sand, and walked off.
What legs the girl had! But it was really indecent to go about like that, with her skirts cut short above the knee.
“Say your father’s busy—dreadfully busy about something just now.” Egholm consulted his dead watch once more. “Ask if she can’t wait, say, about an hour, and I’ll be there directly.”
“Very well.”
“Hedvig!” Egholm stood up and shouted. “Who was the lady?”
“A fine lady,” said Hedvig, angry and ashamed.
“Ask her to sit down,” said Egholm, his voice somewhat faint. “I’ll come directly.”
He thrust more fuel under the boiler, stepped over the side, and waded ashore, with his boots in his hand and his socks dangling out of his pockets.
“You’re a smart one!” said Rothe, playfully threatening.
“Very annoying,” said Egholm. “But I’ll be back in five minutes’ time.”