“Is the courtyard as fine as it is reported to be?”
“Yes; it is very fine. I will show you which car.” While they stood waiting two men came across the street.
“Hullo, you here!” exclaimed one of them.
“Good evening,” said the other. “What luck! We can go together. Have you been to look at the corals?”
“It was closed,” said Miss Jahrman sulkily.
“We have met a fellow-countryman, and promised to show him the right tram,” Miss Winge explained, introducing: “Mr. Gram—Mr. Heggen, artist, and Mr. Ahlin, sculptor.”
“I don’t know if you remember me, Mr. Heggen—my name is Gram; we met three years ago on the Mysusaeter.”
“Oh yes—certainly. And so you are in Rome?”
Ahlin and Miss Jahrman had stood talking to one another in whispers. The girl came up to her friend and said: “I am going home, Jenny. I am not in the mood for Frascati tonight.”