"According to your notions," she finally said, "a girl mustn't speak
unless she's spoken to, and she mustn't have any opinions of her own. You
look as if the only sort of girl you could love would be one that was
always saying, 'I am a poor, ignorant thing. I don't understand what he
sees in me.' I hate such nincompoops!"

Conversation came to a halt. Frederick half rose to leave, but she
restrained him with a self-willed, pouting, "No." There was something
childlike and honest in that pouting "no" which touched his soul and drew
him down on the stool again.

"In Berlin, while I danced, I always had to look at you," she continued,
holding her doll against her lips so that her little nose was a bit
flattened. "The very first time I saw you, I felt something like a bond
between us; I knew we should meet again."

Frederick started, though not for an instant deceived, knowing this must
be an oft-used formula for establishing a relationship, and in essence a
lie.

"Are you married?" he heard before he had fully recovered his balance. He
turned pale. His answer was hard and repellent.

"It would be well, Miss Hahlström, if you were to examine me more closely
before you treat me as one among many. So far, I don't believe in the
bond that unites us. During your dance you looked not only at me, but at
everybody else." He spoke with increasing coldness. "At any rate, it
doesn't in the least concern you whether I am, or am not, married--just
as little as it concerns me what repulsive personages, whom nothing but a