Rolandsen stood up and said shortly, “At midnight.” Firm and inflexible, that was the way.
“Well, really, I had thought you would stay the night. On a special occasion like this. I think I may call it something of a special occasion.”
They walked about among the others, stopping to exchange a few words here and there. Rolandsen encountered Captain Henriksen, and they drank together as if they had been old friends, though neither had seen the other before. The Captain was a cheery fellow, a trifle stout.
Then the music struck up, tables were laid in three rooms, and Rolandsen behaved admirably in choosing himself a place well apart from the most distinguished guests. Mack, making a round of the tables, found him there, and said, “What, are you sitting here? Well, now, I was going to....”
Said Rolandsen, “Not at all, thanks very much; we can hear your speech quite nicely from here.”
Mack shook his head. “No, I’m not going to make any speech.” And he moved off with a thoughtful air, as if something had upset him.
The meal went on; there was much wine, and a great buzz of voices. When the coffee came round, Rolandsen started writing out a wire. It was to Jomfru van Loos in Bergen, to say it was by no means too late and couldn’t be altered, come north soonest possible.—Yours, Ove.
And that was well, all things were excellently well—delightful! He went down himself to the station and sent off the wire. Then he went back to the house. There was more life and movement about the tables now; guests changed places; Elise came through to where he sat, and offered her hand. She begged him to excuse her having passed by so hurriedly before.
“If you only knew how lovely you are again this evening,” said he, and was calm and polite.