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Hamsun, Knut, 1859-1952

"Shallow Soil"


"I hope everything will come out all right," said Ole.
"Oh, yes, it will," said Tidemand. "I am grateful to you, Ole; you have
been a good friend to me. I haven't had such a pleasant hour as long as I
can remember."
"Listen!" Tidemand turned in the doorway and said: "What we have discussed
here remains between us, eh? Not a hint on Thursday; everything is as it
should be as far as we are concerned, what? We are no mopes, I hope!"
And Tidemand departed.


IV

Evening falls over the town. Business rests, stores are closed, and lights
are lowered. But old, grey-haired business men shut themselves in their
offices, light their lamps, take out papers, open heavy ledgers, note some
figures, a sum, and think. They hear the noise from the docks where
steamers load and unload all night long.
It gets to be ten, eleven; the cafes are crowded and the traffic is great.
All sorts of people roam the streets in their best attire; they follow
each other, whistle after girls, and dart in and out from gateways and
basement stairs. Cabbies stand at attention on the squares, on the lookout
for the least sign from the passers-by; they gossip between themselves
about their horses and smoke idly their vile pipes.


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