"Who talked about it? Miss Torsen?"
"Yes. She said I might sit in the gallery."
We walked on down the street, each busy with his own thoughts--or perhaps with the same thought. I, at least, was furious.
"Really, my good Nikolai, I have no desire to buy
tickets in order to look at Mr. Flaten and his ladies!"
"No."
Curious idea of hers, inviting this man to watch her dance. It was preposterous, but like her. Last summer, too--did she not like a third party within hearing whenever she sailed close to the wind? A thought struck me, and I asked the carpenter as calmly as I could:
"Did Miss Torsen want me to sit in the gallery, too--did she say anything about that?"
"No," he replied.
"Didn't she say anything about me?"
"No."