Jenny looked at him: “Anybody in my studio when I have left?”
“There might be somebody you do not wish to be seen with.”
She turned purple in the face: “Why? How could I know that you were sitting there spying on me?”
“My dear Jenny, I don’t mean to say that there was any harm in it, not on your part at least.”
Jenny said nothing, but went up the stairs again. In the studio she placed her bag on the floor, and without taking off her things stood looking at Helge while he hung up his coat and put his umbrella in the corner.
“Father told me this morning that you had been to the office and that mother had been below in the street.”
“Yes. It is a peculiar manner you people have—of spying, I mean. I must say, I find it hard to get accustomed to it.”
Helge turned very red.
“Forgive me, Jenny—I had to speak to you, and the porter said he was sure you were in. You know very well that I don’t suspect you.”