“Well, then we can eat without the beast,” said Dagmar.
Her eyes suddenly grew wet as she sank down by the dazzlingly white tablecloth. Such a lot of lovely food—so many fine bottles! And then there was the man with “Rapid” in white letters across his jersey, just like a footman behind her chair! And then Laura’s jewels and Stellan’s yachting suit!
“Goodness me,” she mumbled. “Goodness me!”
And then she drank her first cocktail.
Stellan pointed to Tord’s empty chair:
“How has our amiable host got into the habit of shooting at people who call on him?”
Dagmar quickly drank her second cocktail. A wild smile lit up her face like lightning:
“He is afraid they will come and take me from him.... So you can see he is mad.”
They ate for a moment in silence. The firelight from the logs in the fireplace flickered over the faces in the big dark hall, which was still shaken by the gale, and where the pine branch still persistently knocked at the window:
Knock, knock, knock...!