Not much happens during the winter. Well, of course, Nikolai has got an overcoat for the first time in his life. He didn't really need it, he says, but he bought it because of the advertisement; and it was dear, twenty kroner, but he got it for eighteen! I am sure Nikolai is much happier about his overcoat than Flaten is about his.
But let me not forget Flaten, for something has happened to him. His friends have given him a farewell party and drunk him out of bachelordom, for he is going to marry. It is Miss Torsen who told me this; I met her by accident again under her own lamppost, and she told me then.
"And you're not wearing mourning?" I said.
"Oh, no," she said, smiling. "No, it's something I've known a long time. Besides, perhaps I'm not very faithful; I don't know."
"I think you've hit the truth there."
She looked startled.
"What do you mean?"
"I think you've changed very much since last summer. You were straight and competent then, you saw clearly, you knew what you wanted. What's happened to your tinge of bitterness? Or have you no longer reason to be bitter?"
This was all too gravely spoken, but I was like a father and meant well.
She began to walk on, her head bent in thought. Then she said something very sensible: