Irgens had locked his door so as not to be disturbed; he was very secretive. When he had finished his proof-reading he got up and looked out of the window. The weather was bright and sunny, a glorious day. He was going to take Miss Lynum to the Art Exhibition at three. He looked forward to this pleasure; it was really enjoyable to listen to this unsophisticated girl's chatter. She had burst upon him like a revelation; she reminded him of the first bird notes in spring.
There was a knock at the door. His first thought was to throw the proofs beneath the table-cloth, but he refrained. He opened. He knew this knock; it was Mrs. Hanka's finger which knocked twice so resolutely. She entered, closed the door, and glided over to him. She smiled, bent toward him, and looked into his eyes.
"It isn't me at all!" she said, and laughed quietly. "I want you to know that!" She could not hide her embarrassment entirely and flushed deeply.
She wore a grey woollen gown, and looked very young with her low lace collar and her bare neck.
He said:
"So it isn't you? Well, it doesn't matter who you are—you are equally lovely! And what glorious weather you are bringing!"
They sat down. He placed before her the proof-sheet, and she clapped her hands and cried: "Didn't I tell you? I knew it! No; but you are wonderful!" And she did not get tired of marvelling at him—that he was that far already! Oh, but wouldn't it come like a thunderclap; not a soul suspected anything! They all went around thinking that he did not work any more. Oh, Heavens! but nobody in the wide world was half as happy as she. She smuggled an envelope with something in it under the proof-sheet and pulled him away from the table. She talked all the time.
They sat down on the sofa. Her happiness, her violent joy, communicated itself to him, carried him away, and made him tender with gratitude. How she loved him, how she sacrificed herself for him and did for him what she could! He embraced her passionately, kissed her time and again, and held her close to his breast.
"I am so happy," she whispered. "I knew something was going to make me glad; as I walked upstairs it seemed as if I were going into an embrace! Dearest boy, no—the door—!"
The sun rose higher, the thrushes twittered passionately outside. The first bird notes of spring, he thought again, how unsophisticated these little creatures were in their chatter!