It was written in
Aagot's large, childish hand, and was touching in its simplicity; she had
made several corrections.
Yes, he had understood it clearly; and, besides, there was the ring. After
all, what did _he_ amount to? He was no prominent man, known all over
the country; he was no genius who could interest a girl greatly; he was
just an ordinary toiler, a business man--that was all. He should have
known better than imagine he would be allowed to keep Aagot's heart for
himself. Just see how he had fooled himself! Of course, he attended to his
business and worked conscientiously early and late, but that could not
make people fond of him. There was nothing to say to that. Anyhow, he knew
now why his telegrams had remained unanswered. He ought to have understood
it at once, but he hadn't.... She had gone entirely too far. She said
goodbye and loved somebody else. Nothing could be done about that. If she
loved somebody else, then.... It was probably Irgens--he would get her
after all. Tidemand had been right. It was dangerous with these many
boat-rides and walks; Tidemand had had experience. Well, it was too late
to think of that now.
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