But Elise called to him softly, and he stopped, stood gazing at her, shaken and confused in his surprise.
“I—I was only going to say ... it’s nothing serious, is it?”
Rolandsen could make nothing of this; could not understand why she had suddenly chosen to speak to him at all. “I’ve got leave to go home,” he said. “To send off some telegrams.”
She came up close to him, her breast heaving; she looked round, as if in fear of something. Then she said:
“Father was angry, I suppose. But it’ll soon pass off, I’m sure.”
Rolandsen was offended; had he himself no right in the case? “Your father can do as he pleases,” he said.
Ho, so that was his tone! But Elise breathed heavily as before, and said, “Why do you look at me like that? Don’t you know me again?”
Grace and kindliness without end. Rolandsen answered, “As to knowing again or not, that’s as folk themselves will have it.”
Pause. Then said Elise at last, “But surely you can see, after what you’ve done ... still, it’s worst for yourself.”