She looked me calmly in the face. “No. What for?” she said.
“Grindhusen might be a little done up, perhaps—I don't know....”
“He promised to drive,” she said. “And he's not done up. Isn't he nearly ready?”
“I can't see him,” I answered.
“Shut the door again, and tell him to come,” she commanded, wrapping herself more closely as she spoke.
I went over to the stables. Grindhusen was harnessing a fresh pair of horses.
“What's all this?” I asked. “Going off again, are you?”
“Yes—that is, I thought so,” said Grindhusen, stopping for a moment as if in doubt.
“It looks queer. Where's Fruen going to, do you know?”
“No. She wanted to drive back again last night as soon as we got to the station, but I told her that it was too much for either of us to drive back then. So she slept at the hotel. But this morning it was home again, if you please. And now she wants to go to the station again, she says. I don't know, I'm sure....”