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(1921) Author: Sigrid Undset
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When we came back Douglas was sitting with the girl on his
knee. We pretended not to see, but he never asked me to tea
after that.”

“Dear me,” said Jenny. “Was there any harm in that?”

“In spring-time and in Paris,” said Heggen, with a smile.
“Norman Douglas, I tell you, Cesca, was a splendid chap —
you cannot deny that — and clever too. He showed me some
beautiful things from the fortifications.”

“Yes, and do you remember that one from Père Lachaise,
with the purple rosaries to the left?” said Jenny.

“Rather! It was a gem; and the one with the little girl
at the piano?”

“Yes, but think of the dreadful model,” said Miss Jahrman
— “that fat, middle-aged, fair one, you know. And he always
pretended to be so virtuous.”

“He was,” said Heggen.

“Pugh! And I was on the verge of falling in love with him
just because of that.”

“Oh! That of course puts it in another light.”

“He proposed to me lots of times,” said Francesca pensively,
and I had decided to say yes, but fortunately I had not done
it yet.”

“If you had,” said Heggen, “you would never have seen
him with that model on his knee.”

The expression on Francesca’s face changed completely; for
a second a shadow of melancholy passed over her soft features.

“Nonsense! You are all alike. I don’t believe one of you.
Per Bacco!”

“You must not think that, Francesca,” said Ahlin, lifting
his head for a moment from his hand.

She smiled again. “Give me some more liqueur.”

Toward dawn Helge walked beside Jenny Winge through
dark, deserted streets. The three in front of them stopped;

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