Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part two - II
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stood almost completely in the raw, icy shade; on the one side
a narrow strip of sun fell on the top floor; she was pleased to
think that Helge’s parents lived there.
Her way to school had been along this street for four years.
She knew it well — the smell shops, the black marks of snow
on the plaster ornaments of the front entrances, the plants in
majolica pots or coloured tissue paper in the windows, the
fashion-plates against the panes at the dressmaker’s, and the
narrow gateway leading to dark back-yards, where small heaps
of dirty snow made the air still more raw. A tramcar rolled
heavily up the hill.
Close to where she stood, in the other street, was a large
house with a dark yard; they had lived there when her
stepfather died.
Outside a door with a brass plate, with “G. Gram” engraved
on it; she stood still for a moment, her heart beating. She
tried to laugh at herself for this senseless feeling of oppression
each time she had to face anything new, for which she had not
prepared her mind in advance. Why should she consider her
future parents-in-law of such importance? They could not
hurt her.... She rang the bell.
She heard somebody coming through the hall; then the door
opened. It was Helge’s mother; she knew her from a
photograph.
“Are you Mrs. Gram? I am Miss Winge.”
“Oh yes — please come in.”
Jenny followed her through a long, narrow hall encumbered
with cupboards, boxes, and outdoor clothes.
Mrs. Gram opened the door to the drawing-room. At this
moment the sun came in, showing up the moss-green plush
furniture, curtains and portieres of the same material, and the
vivid colours of the carpet. The room was small and very
full — photographs and sundry fancy articles stood in every
possible place.
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