“You said I was throwing money out of the window.”
Fru Egholm shifts in her seat, pulling nervously at her work. She would like to mitigate the sharpness of her words, and yet, if possible, stand by what she had said.
Sivert wakes to the fact that he is dribbling down over his hand, and sniffs up hastily.
“Didn’t you say it was throwing money out of the window?”
“I said, it was hard taking money where there was none.”
“You said it was throwing money away. But do you know what I’m doing with that money all the time? I’m putting it in the bank.”
“In the bank?...”
“In the Bank of Heaven—where the interest is a thousand—nay, tens of thousands—per cent.! If it wasn’t for that, I’d never have thought of joining the Brotherhood at all.”
“But—I can’t help it, but I don’t believe in him, that Evangelist man. Young Karlsen, I mean.”
Egholm breathed sharply, and quickened his steps. The answer did not please him.