“Thanks.” He took the cigarette from her lips.
“The thing is, you see,” he said suddenly, “that there was once some story about father and another woman. I was twelve then, and I don’t know exactly how much truth there was in it. But mother!... it was a dreadful time. It was only because of us that they remained together—father told me so himself. God knows, I don’t thank him for it! Mother is honest at least, and admits that she means to hold on to him by hook or by crook and not let go.”
He sat down on the sofa. Jenny went and sat beside him, kissing his eyes. He sank on his knees and laid his head in her lap.
“Do you remember the last evening in Rome, when I said good-night? Do you still love me as you did then?”
“We have not been happy together today—it’s the first time.”
He lifted his head: “Are you vexed with me?” he said in a low voice.
“Tonight”—she hesitated—“when we walked here, you said we would go somewhere alone—some other day. It was not as it was in Rome; now it is you who decide what I must do and not do.”
“Yes—but I don’t mind; I like it so. I only think that, if such is the case, you ought to help me out of all this trouble.”
“You don’t think I did help you today?” he asked slowly.
“Ye—s. Well, I suppose there was nothing you could do.”
“Shall I go now?” he whispered after a pause, drawing her close to him.
“You know what I wish. What do you wish—most?”
“I don’t know what I want.” She burst into tears.
“Oh, Jenny darling.” He kissed her softly time after time. When she recovered herself he took her hand: “I am going now. Sleep well, dear; you are tired. You must not be cross with me.”
“Say good-night nicely to me,” she said, clinging to him.
“Good-night, my sweet, beloved Jenny.” He left, and she fell to crying again.
“These are the things I wanted you to see,” said Gert Gram, rising. He had been on his knees, looking for something on the lower shelf of his safe.
Jenny pushed the sketch-books aside and pulled the electric lamp nearer. He wiped the dust from the big portfolio and placed it before her.
“I have not shown these to anybody for a great many years, or looked at them myself, but I have been wanting you to see them for some time—in fact, from the day I called on you at your studio. When you came here to look at Helge’s picture I meant to ask you if you cared to see them, and all the time you were working close by here I had it in my mind.