“It says ‘ostrich feathers’ twice in this. I don’t know if it’s meant to be that way.”
“Twice?” said she. “Let me look. Oh no, of course not; you’re quite right. Lend me a pen, would you mind?”
She took off her glove, and went on speaking as she wrote. “And that’s to a merchant in town; he’d have laughed at me ever so. There, it’s all right now, isn’t it?”
“Quite right now.”
“And so you’re still here?” she said, keeping her seat. “Year after year and I find you here.”
Rolandsen had his reasons, no doubt, for staying on at this little station instead of applying for a better post. There must be something that held him to the place, year after year.
“Must be somewhere,” he answered.
“You might come to Rosengaard. That’s better than here, surely?”
The faintest little blush spread over her cheeks as she spoke; perhaps she would rather have left that unsaid.