She even asked about the business, about the Russian customs duty; honest,
she wanted to know everything about Furst. You should have seen how
delighted she was because business is looking up again. We spoke about our
summer vacation, our country house. Yes, it is getting a little better
every day."
"There you are--didn't I tell you? It certainly would be a pity
otherwise."
Pause.
"There is something I am at a loss to explain, though," continued
Tidemand, worried again. "Here lately she has been talking about what a
woman like herself should do with her life. She must have a career,
something to do and accomplish. I must confess it astonished me a little,
a woman with two children and a large household--She has also begun to use
her former name again, Hanka Lange Tidemand, just as if her name still
were Lange."
Mrs. Hanka had stopped outside her own entrance; she was evidently waiting
for her husband. She called to him jestingly that he had better hurry--she
was almost freezing to death. And she lifted her finger banteringly and
asked:
"What plots and conspiracies are you two wholesalers now hatching? Where
is the price of wheat now, and what are you going to put it up to? God
have mercy on you on the day of judgment!"
Tidemand answered in kind: What in the world had she done with the
Journalist? So she had not wanted company, not even her own husband's; she
had been in a sentimental mood? But how could she be so cruel as to let
this poor fellow Gregersen ramble home all alone, drunk as he was? It was
simply heartless--
* * * * *
In about a week Ole Henriksen had returned from Torahus.
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