“Do, then, Vang, do.”
Vang turned with a smile towards Fru Egholm, who was removing her hat in silence at the farthest corner of the room.
“I’ll stay, then, just as I am, in what I’ve got on. My clothes aren’t much, anyway. And I’m mostly drunk as well. But when you get to know me, Frue, you’ll see that right down inside I’m the man I am. Son of Sofus Vang. First-class hotel, excellent cuisine, and choicest wines—with terrace overlooking the water!”
Hedvig burst out laughing. She and her mother began carrying in the things Omnibus-Jeppe had piled up outside.
Egholm saw how he and Vang were gradually being immured behind the various belongings. It even seemed to him that now and then something was thrust with unnecessary harshness against his legs, and a threatening look crept into his eyes. In the midst of a flow of speech addressed to Vang, he broke off suddenly, and said in a voice of command:
“Take that stuff into the other room!”
“I will, dear. Let me,” said Fru Egholm. “But it looked like rain, you know.”
“Not that door,” said Egholm angrily.
“But these are the kitchen things.” Fru Egholm had already seen that the other door opened into an attic or box-room or something of the sort. “Isn’t that the kitchen there?”