He left the doorpost and crowded farther into the hall; suddenly he was standing in front of her, as she sat with an older girl friend in a corner. "Hauke!" she called, looking up to him with her narrow face; "are you here? I didn't see you dance."
"I didn't dance," he replied.
"Why not, Hauke?" and half rising she added: "Do you want to dance with me? I didn't let Ole Peters do it; he won't come again!"
But Hauke made no move in this direction: "Thank you, Elke," he said; "I don't know how to dance well enough; they might laugh at you; and then--" he stopped short and looked at her with his whole heart in his grey eyes, as if he had to leave it to them to say the rest.
"What do you mean, Hauke?" she said in a low voice.
"I mean, Elke, the day can't turn out any better for me than it has done already."
"Yes," she said, "you have won the game."
"Elke!" he reproached her almost inaudibly.
Then her face flushed crimson: "Go!" she said; "what do you want?" and she cast down her eyes.
But when Elke's friend was being drawn away to the dance by a young man, Hauke said louder: "I thought Elke, I had won something better!"