"They say she is handsome."
"Handsome? Yes, she's rather handsome, in fact, distinctly handsome--and musical--decidedly musical. Indeed, she has grown to be a very attractive girl--very!"
There was another awkward silence, in which the anthem pealed out over the jangling voices in the warehouse.
"I suppose the wedding will be soon," said Magnus.
"The wedding? Well, to tell you the truth, Magnus, nothing has been fixed yet."
"Not yet?"
"Nothing definite, I mean--no precise date. I don't know why, but----"
Oscar looked at his brother, and felt his tongue arrested.
Magnus was calm, his eyes were quiet, and his voice was soft, but there was something in his face which brought back a terrible memory. It was the memory of the night of the betrothal, the last time they talked together, when Magnus had said, "If you ever neglect or desert her or give her up for another woman, I'll take her back--do you hear me?--I'll take her back, and then, by God, I'll kill you!"
Oscar supped at the Factor's house that night. He was unusually solemn, and more than once during the meal Aunt Margret bantered him on his silence, but, at the end of it, while lighting a cigarette, he said: