"What do you think of it?" he asked.
"I think it's a good idea."
"Do you?"
They were on deck nearly the whole of the day, but toward evening it turned bitter cold and windy. When she had grown stiff with sitting, she got up and stamped her feet, and when she had stamped till she was tired, she sat down again. Once when she was standing a little distance away, she saw the carpenter place a parcel on the bench as though to keep her seat for her.
Her quondam traveling companion stuck his head out of a doorway, the wind blowing his hair forward over his forehead, and cried:
"Ingeborg, go below, will you!"
"Oh," she groaned. Suddenly she was seized with fury. The ship heeled over on its side as she walked toward him, and she had to take a few skips to keep her balance.
"I don't want you to talk to me again," she hissed at him. "Do you hear? I mean it, by all that's holy!"
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed and disappeared.
At about three o'clock, the carpenter turned up with coffee and sandwiches again.