True, there was little Emanuel, whom he had forgotten altogether for the moment. But then Emanuel was the child of victory. Or at least it was reasonable here, as ever, of two evils to choose the lesser.
Anna was a little puffy and dark under the eyes, but her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She and Hedvig handed out an endless array of packages, a lamp, some pictures, and the family treasure—the cut-glass bowl. One of the parcels was soft and round, and Anna proffered it with a warning:
“Be careful; don’t lay it down anywhere. There might come a dog....”
Egholm fingered it over, and made out the contours of a fowl. His heart softened. And then, as Anna stood feeling helplessly behind her with her lace boots, he took her in his arms, helped her out, and twisted her round. Her face was flushed with confusion. The features he cared for hid those he hated. For a second he read the anxious questioning in her eyes, then a wave of deep sympathy overwhelmed him, and he pressed her to him again and again.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, Anna, my dear, I’m so glad.”
Omnibus-Jeppe was to take the heavier luggage that was in the van.
“H’m,” said Jeppe, scratching the back of his head, “there’s enough to stock a shop.”
Egholm scratched his head likewise, and stared helplessly at the bundles of bedding and Anna’s flower-pots—a whole score of them.
“What on earth d’you want to drag all that about for?” he asked irritably.