A ring flashed on each of her hands.
He could not remain there at the window so indifferently. She was
beginning to notice it; she looked up; and besides, she was remarkably
beautiful as she sat there fixing her hair. He stepped over to her and
kissed her as warmly as he could.
"Don't kiss me, darling," she said; "be careful! Look here--it is the
spring air."
She showed him a little red spot on her under lip. He asked her if it
hurt, and she answered that it was not that, but she was afraid he might
catch it from her. Suddenly she asked:
"Listen, can you come to Tivoli to-night? There is an operatic
performance. Couldn't we meet there? Otherwise I'll die of loneliness."
He remembered that he was going to the Art Exhibition. What might happen
afterward was hard to tell; he had better not promise anything. No, he
said, he was afraid it would be impossible; he had made certain
arrangements with Ole Henriksen.
"Oh, please--do come! I would be so proud and grateful!"
"But why in the world do you want to go to Tivoli?"
"But there is opera to-night!"
"Well, what of it? That means nothing to me. Well, if you like--"
"No, not if I like," she said sadly.
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