before, behind and at the sides, we involuntarily received the
impression that such a co-efficient, with an extraordinarily strong
tendency to expand, was present in Frode Hansen's stomach.

And people who met him, especially when he heaved one of his deep, beery
sighs, nervously stepped to one side. For if the co-efficient in there
should ever happen to get the better of the strong belt, the pieces, and
particularly the front buckle, would fly around with a force sufficient
to break plate-glass windows.

In other respects, Frode Hansen was not very dangerous of approach. He
was even looked upon as one of the most harmless of police-constables;
he very rarely reported a case of any kind. All the same, he stood well
with his superiors, for when anything was reported by others, no matter
what, if they only asked Frode Hansen, he could always make some
interesting disclosure or other about it.

In this way the world went well with him; he was almost esteemed in
Aabenraa and down Vognmagergade. Yes, even Mam Hansen sometimes found
means to stand him a half of lager beer.

And she had certainly little to give away. Poverty-stricken and
besotted, she had enough to do to struggle along with her two children.

Not that Mam Hansen worked or tried to work herself forward or upward;
if she could only manage to pay her rent and have a little left over for
coffee and brandy, she was content. Beyond this she had no illusions.

In reality, the general opinion--even in Aabenraa--was that Mam Hansen
was a beast; and, when she was asked if she were a widow, she would