"We are walking in a circle," he said. "That is the way I am circling around you."
"Listen," she said, and her eyes were moist, "this is the last time I shall be with you, probably. Won't you be nice? I am going home, you know, very soon now."
But just as he was preparing to answer her out of the fullness of his heart somebody had to pass their seat. It was a lady. In one hand she carried a twig with which she struck her skirt smartly for every step she took. She approached them slowly; they saw that she was young. Irgens knew her; he got up from his seat, took off his hat, and bowed deeply.
And the lady passed blushingly by.
Aagot asked:
"Who was that?"
"Only my landlady's daughter," he said. "You told me to be nice. Yes, dearest—"
But Aagot wanted further information concerning this lady. So they lived in the same house? What was she doing? What kind of a person was his landlady?
And Irgens answered her fully. Just as if she were a child whose curiosity had been aroused by the merest chance occurrence, Aagot made him tell her everything he knew concerning these strange people in Thranes Road No. 5. She wondered why the lady had blushed; why Irgens had greeted her so obsequiously. She did not know that this was the way Irgens always paid his rent—by being particularly gracious to his landlady's family on the street.
The young lady was good-looking, although she had a few freckles. She was really pretty when she blushed; didn't he think so?