“For you needn’t imagine it’ll ever come to anything with you and Olga. She’s to have Frederik Mack.”
Was she? thought Rolandsen. So it was common talk already. He walked away thoughtfully, and Jomfru van Loos went with him. They came down on to the road and walked on.
“You look nice with your hair short,” she said. “But it’s badly cut, wretchedly badly cut.”
“Can you lend me three hundred Daler?” he asked.
“Three hundred Daler?”
“For six months.”
“I wouldn’t lend you the money anyway. It’s all over between us now.”
Rolandsen nodded, and said, “Right, then, that’s agreed.”
But when they reached the Vicarage gate, where Rolandsen had to turn off, she said, “I haven’t the money. I wish I had.” She gave him her hand, and said, “I can’t stand here any longer now; good-bye for the present.” And when she had gone a few steps, she turned round and said, “Isn’t there anything else you’d like me to say?”