“Why don’t you stand out down on the road and wave an olive branch?” says Rolandsen.
“Did you cut your hair yourself?”
“Olga cut my hair, if you want to know.”
Yes, Olga, who might one day be the wife of Frederik Mack; she had cut his hair. Rolandsen was not inclined to hide the fact; on the contrary, it was a thing to be blazoned abroad.
“Olga, did you say?”
“Well, and why not? Her father couldn’t.”
“I’m tired of your goings-on,” said Jomfru van Loos. “Don’t you be surprised if you find it’s all over between us one fine day.”
Rolandsen stood thinking for a moment.
“Why, perhaps that would be best,” he said.