Ojen's prose poem had caused him some anxiety. Perhaps, after all, there
was something to this fellow, this competitor in the matter of the
subsidy. What was Paulsberg's opinion?
"You know I don't care to speak for or against in such a matter," said
Paulsberg. "But I have called at the ministry a few times and expressed my
preference. I hope it may carry some weight."
"Of course, of course, I didn't mean--Well, the Exhibition closes
to-morrow. We ought to get busy and finish that picture of yours. Can you
sit tomorrow?"
Paulsberg nodded and turned away.
Irgens had gradually lost his good spirits; it irritated him that no one
had mentioned his book. It was the latest event; why wasn't it even
referred to? Everybody was only too familiar with Ojen's filigree fancies.
Irgens shrugged his shoulders. Paulsberg had not indicated approval of his
book by a single word. Perhaps he was waiting to be asked? But Irgens
could get along without Paulsberg's opinion.
Irgens rose.
"Are you going?" asked Mrs. Hanka.
Irgens said good night to her and to Miss Aagot, nodded to the others, and
left Sara's.
He had only gone a few steps when he heard somebody call him.
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