She was lying with her eyes half closed, looking at the pale morning light coming through the ribs of the blind.
He kissed her when he stood fully dressed, holding his hat; then he kneeled by her bed and put an arm under her shoulder:
“Thank you for tonight. Do you remember that I said those same words to you the first morning in Rome, when we were at Aventine?”
Jenny nodded on her pillow.
“One more kiss—and good-night—my lovely Jenny.”
At the door he stopped:
“What about the front door? Is there a key, or is it one of those ordinary ones with a latch?”
“Yes, an ordinary one. You can open it all right from the inside.”
She remained in bed with her eyes closed. She saw her own body as it lay under the cover, white, bare, beautiful—a thing that she had flung away as she had the gloves. It was not hers any more.
She gave a start on hearing Heggen mount the stairs slowly and open his door. He walked up and down in his room, then came out again and went up the stairs to the roof. She heard him pacing to and fro above her head. She was sure he knew, but it did not make much impression on her tired brain. She felt no pain now. It seemed to her that he would probably think what had happened as natural and unavoidable as she did. She could not decide what was the next thing to do—it must just come as the other had done, as a necessary consequence of her opening the door last night to Helge.