"The boy thought for a moment. 'Where shall I set the mark?' he asked.
"'Here, above my heart,' said the girl.
"And she bared her breast, and the boy took out his knife and with its sharp point scratched a little heart on her breast."
The girl shivered a little.
"And then he coloured it where he had cut, like sailors do with anchors on their arms. And when he had finished, he kissed it. And they said good-bye, and he went away."
Olof was touched—now he understood….
"And what then?" he asked softly. "What happened after, to the girl with a mark above her heart, and to him that made it?"
"The boy…." She stopped, at a loss, and then went on: "There's no more about him in the story. He went away. Only about the girl…."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Olof. "He went away. And the girl?"
"The girl—she looked at the mark every night when she undressed, and every morning when she dressed herself, for she felt as if he were there all the time, because of the mark. But then the time came when her parents said she must marry. And she didn't want to, but she had to all the same. But she did not love her husband, and was always looking secretly at the mark her lover had made, as if she were talking with him that way, and it made her happy."