She thinks for a moment.
“Yes, we will,” she says generously.
We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria: Fruen is there.
“Is that you, Lovise? You'd never guess who I'm with now? Won't you come along? Oh, good! We're at the Grand. No, I can't tell you now. Yes, of course it's a man—only he's a gentleman now—I won't say who it is. Are you coming? Why, you said just now you would! Some people? Oh, well, do as you like, of course, but I do think.... Yes, he's standing here. You are in a hurry....”
Frøken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly:
“She had to go and see some friends.”
We went back to our seat, and had some more wine; I tried to be cheerful, and suggested champagne. Yes, thanks. And then, as we're sitting there, Frøkenen says suddenly:
“Oh, there's Bewer! I'm so glad we're drinking champagne.”
But I have only one idea in my mind, and being now called upon to show what I can do, and charm this young lady to the ultimate advantage of some one else, I find myself saying one thing and thinking another. Which, of course, leads to disaster. I cannot get that telephone conversation out of my head; she must have had an idea—have realized that it was I who was waiting for her here. But what on earth had I done? Why had I been dismissed so suddenly from Øvrebø, and Falkenberg taken on in my place. Quite possibly the Captain and his wife were not always the best of friends, but the Captain had scented danger in my being there, and wished to save his wife at least from such an ignominious fall. And now, here she was, feeling ashamed that I had worked on her place, that she had used me to drive her carriage, and twice shared food with me by the way. And she was ashamed, too, of my being no longer young....
“This will never do,” says Frøken Elisabeth.