But the tension died away in a disappointed, dissatisfied tone,
“I see, not in yet....”
Hedvig resumed her cell-walking. She mumbled to herself and looked if possible even paler than before. Incessantly she looked at the clock in despair that the minutes passed so slowly through the silent and sunny room.
For the second time Hedvig was drawn to the telephone. Now at last he had come to the office. The cool relief suddenly made her voice indifferent, hard, businesslike:
“Good-morning! It is Mrs. Hill speaking. I only wanted to remind you of those mortgages that were to be attended to ... those in....”
Levy’s voice answered over the ’phone, stern and assured, with an imperceptible note of satisfaction:
“Yes, of course, the mortgages.... Yes, that will be all right.... I will come out to dinner, if I may, then we can talk it over....”
It was not the first time Levy had invited himself to dinner at Hill villa. Probably in the correct surmise that his client would never be able to make up her mind to do it.
Hedvig put the receiver down with a shrug of the shoulders, a wretched false little shrug. She resumed her walking. You could see how she tried to convince herself that she was quite cool and indifferent now that her anxiety lest he should forget the mortgages was over.
Her steps halted suddenly in front of one of the patches of sunlight on the carpet. It looked as if she dared not venture out on that red sea of light. It looked as if the spring sun, which flooded the large silent room in ever greater volume, had dazzled and paralysed her.