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“Good God! what is the use of all this?” he
exclaimed, but obeyed.
“Gösta, I wanted to tell you I thought it best to
come home.”
“We will hope that they do not turn Fröken
Marienne into the snowdrifts again.”
“Oh, Gösta, don’t you love me any more? Do
you think me so ugly?”
He drew her head down and kissed her, but he
was just as cold as before.
She was really amused. If he chose to be jealous
of her parents, what did it matter? It would pass.
It amused her now to win him back. She hardly
knew why she wanted him, but she did. She
remembered that he had freed her from herself once at
least; he was probably the only one who could do
it again. And she began to speak eagerly to him.
She said it had not been her intention to desert
him, but they must, for the sake of appearances,
break this engagement for a time. He had seen
himself that her father was on the verge of madness,
and her mother lived in constant fear of her life.
He must understand that she had been obliged to
return home.
Then his anger found words. She need not pretend.
He would no longer be her plaything. She
had jilted him as soon as she found she might
return home, and he could not love her any more. On
the day when he came home from the bear hunt
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