"We are walking in a circle," he said. "That is the way I am circling around you." "Listen," she said, and her eyes were moist, "this is the last time I shall be with you, probably. Won't you be nice? I am going home, you know, very soon now." But just as he was preparing to answer her out of the fullness of his heart somebody had to pass their seat. It was a lady. In one hand she carried a twig with which she struck her skirt smartly for every step she took. She approached them slowly; they saw that she was young. Irgens knew her; he got up from his seat, took off his hat, and bowed deeply. And the lady passed blushingly by. Aagot asked: "Who was that?" "Only my landlady's daughter," he said. "You told me to be nice. Yes, dearest--" But Aagot wanted further information concerning this lady. So they lived in the same house? What was she doing? What kind of a person was his landlady? And Irgens answered her fully. Just as if she were a child whose curiosity had been aroused by the merest chance occurrence, Aagot made him tell her everything he knew concerning these strange people in Thranes Road No. 5. She wondered why the lady had blushed; why Irgens had greeted her so obsequiously. She did not know that this was the way Irgens always paid his rent--by being particularly gracious to his landlady's family on the street. The young lady was good-looking, although she had a few freckles. She was really pretty when she blushed; didn't he think so? And Irgens agreed; she was pretty. But she didn't have one only dimple; there was only one who had that.... Aagot glanced at him quickly; his voice thrilled her; she closed her eyes. The next instant she felt that she was bending toward him, that he kissed her. Neither spoke; all her fears were lulled; she ceased to struggle and rested deliciously in his arms. And nobody disturbed them. The wind soughed through the trees; it hushed and soothed.... Somebody came along; they rushed apart and kept their eyes on the gravelled walk while he passed. Aagot was quite equal to the occasion; she did not show the slightest trace of confusion. She got up and began to walk away. And now she began to think; the tears were dripping from her long lashes, and she whispered, dully, despairingly: "God forgive me! What have I done?" Irgens wanted to speak, to say something that would soften her despair. It had happened because it had to happen. He was so unspeakably fond of her; she surely knew he was in earnest.... And he really looked as if he were greatly in earnest. But Aagot heard nothing; she walked on, repeating these desperate words. Instinctively she took the way down toward the city. It seemed as if she were hurrying home. "Dearest Aagot, listen a moment--" She interrupted violently: "Be quiet, will you!" And he was silent.