During Dagmar’s outpourings Stellan had been sitting motionless sucking an unlighted cigar. Now he exchanged a quick glance with Laura. Unpleasantness and scandal threatened from all sides. They must be careful. He called in the men and ordered them to clear the table and take the things down to the boat. Then he turned to Dagmar:
“To take you with us now is absolutely out of the question,” he said coldly. “But if you can persuade Tord to go abroad, preferably out of Europe, I am prepared to give you some money.”
Dagmar had begun to pull out some clothes at random and put them in a knapsack. She looked up and shook her head:
“You don’t understand,” she muttered hurriedly. “He is impossible. It is impossible to talk to him. I must get away!”
Stellan rose:
“Good-bye,” he said. “Thank you. We must get away before it grows dark. Think over what I have said.”
Dagmar stamped on the floor:
“No,” she cried. “I must come with you! You can put me ashore wherever you like. I can very well sleep in the gutter tonight! But I must get away!”
Laura and Stellan walked quickly out. Dagmar came after them, without hat, in her red silk frock and with her bundle in her hand. The gale tore her untidy fair hair. Mumbling, crying, stumbling, she ran after Laura and Stellan down the rock hillside.
“If you don’t take me with you, I will throw myself in the water!”