Jenny bent her head.
“Oh, I am a fool,” said he suddenly. “Forgive me. You must tell me, Jenny, if I bother you.”
“Oh no, you don’t bother me. I am glad you came.”
“I realize that it must be awful for you, Jenny.” His voice had changed completely. “I quite realize it, but I am sure you are making it still worse by going about here all alone. I do think you ought to go somewhere else—somewhere a little less hopeless than this.” He was looking at the dark plain and the rows of poplars losing themselves in the distance.
“Mrs. Schlessinger is so very kind,” said Jenny evasively.
“Oh yes, good soul; I am sure she is.” He smiled. “I think she suspects me of being the culprit.”
“Probably,” said Jenny, smiling too.
They walked on in silence. After a while Gunnar asked:
“How are you going to arrange matters? Have you made any plans as to the future?”
“I don’t know yet. I suppose you mean about the child? I may leave it with Mrs. Schlessinger for a time; she would look after it all right, I dare say. Or I may get some one to adopt it; you know, such children are adopted sometimes. I might call myself Mrs. Winge and never mind what people think.”