"Isn't it?" said Helga, and again she glanced at him sideways and laughed.
They sat on the bank to put on their skates, and while Helga fumbled at her straps, Oscar thought, "I must not, I will not!" But Helga looked across at him with a smile that seemed to ask a question, and at the next moment he was down on his knees in front of her, with one of her skates and one of her long tanned boots in his quivering hands.
Oscar thought Helga's skating was wonderful. It was divine, it was devilish, it intoxicated him, he could not trust himself to look at it alone, and seeing a number of skaters at the farther side of the lake, where there was an island of lava rocks, he said:
"Let us go over to the others."
Hours passed, the exercise and the air warmed his blood, his tremors left him, and he forgot about Thora. At length the sun began to set over the sea in a flood of glory, and Oscar said, "Time to go home."
"Not yet," said Helga, and they went round and round the island, sometimes apart, sometimes with clasped hands, sometimes side by side with arms interlaced across their breasts.
The sun went down, and both sea and land became gray and cold, but still the tops of the mountains were golden.
"Tea will be waiting," said Oscar.
"A little longer!" said Helga, and nothing loath, Oscar went round and round with her again.
The night came striding up from the plain behind, and somebody lit a fire on the island.