Axelson dove into his cabin. But he had scarcely got on his shirt and trousers before he came rushing into Modin’s compartment. “Listen! Excuse a question. You were telling about an avenue of lindens and a grove of oaks. Do you happen to remember anything more definite about the road out?” “I don’t know of what use all this is. For the matter of that I remember less about localities than of my own feelings.” “Come, try now, or I’ll think you are tricking me.” “I’ve a notion that I passed over a little bridge and under a high red shaky gable, that somehow made me think of Almkvist’s story, _The Mill_. That was surely just before my digression.” Axelson’s eyes gleamed. “My good fellow, you must have taken a remarkable circuit, because the mill lies just two and a half minutes’ journey outside the town. Do you by any chance remember a giant oak almost dead, which stood down on the slope away from the others?” “Yes, I think I do.” “Good, good! Then I may tell you that about a hundred yards from the place of your meeting stood a dwelling-house, though you could not see it; an ordinary, white-plastered, fire-insured, fairly well mortgaged, decent two-story house with young folks and servants and a croquet ground. So the wonderful loneliness didn’t amount to much.” Modin carefully tied his necktie. “You’re making a fantastically vain attempt to rob me of my illusions.” “Just one more question: Do you remember something special in the white lady’s appearance?” “By something special you mean of course a blemish. Yes, I was really fascinated by a little scar she had on her forehead. It was a very decorative scar, because it drew up one eyebrow a trifle and at first glance gave her a lively and somewhat mocking appearance.” Axelson’s whole countenance glowed. “Splendid, splendid! I sewed that scar together. I know as much as you like of the lady in question. The doctor is the whole town’s father confessor.” Modin made a gesture of refusal with both hands. “I wish to know absolutely nothing, I beg you, nothing!” But Axelson was merciless. “This much you must know at any rate, that she got the scar when she fell off a bicycle. And that she lived with her parents in the white-plastered two-story house. And that she worked at the post office from nine to one. And furthermore that she had probably just been betrothed in that very dress. You see that I know my community.” “But all this is most uninteresting, my dear Axelson.” “Not altogether, my dear brother, not altogether.” Axelson dived back into his cabin. The two men were soon ready. Despite the summer heat Modin was attired in black, and very jauntily; Axelson on the other hand wore a gray check suit. The walrus looked very masterful and imposing when he was dressed. One understood directly that he amounted to something in his community. He stood forth on the quay and slapped the other man on the shoulder. “Hope you’ll do me the honor of eating dinner with me.”