“I designed it myself.”
“Oh well, then it is easy to get nice patterns. Have you seen this, Aagot? Isn’t it pretty? You are very clever”—and she patted Jenny’s hand.
What loathsome hands she had, thought Jenny—small, short fingers, with nails broader than long, and splayed out wide.
Helge and Jenny saw Aagot to her rooms and walked slowly down Pilestaedet in the pale night of June. The chestnuts in bloom along the hospital wall smelt strongly after the afternoon shower.
“Helge,” said Jenny, “you must try and arrange so that we need not go with them the day after tomorrow.”
“It is impossible. They have asked you and you have accepted. It is for your sake they have arranged this picnic.”
“But can you not understand how miserable it will be? I wish we could go alone somewhere, you and I, as in Rome.”
“There is nothing I would like better, but if we refuse to be a party to their midsummer outing it will only make things more unpleasant at home.”
“Not more than usual, I suppose,” she said scornfully.