They spoke about Ole; they mentioned Aagot. Tidemand wanted to look her up some day. Ole had asked him to do it; he felt, in a way, responsible for her. But the nurse came and wanted to put the children to bed. However, the children had no idea of going to bed; they refused pointblank. And Hanka had to come along, follow them into their bed-room, and get them settled for the night. She looked around. Everything was as it used to be. There were the two little beds, the coverlets, the tiny pillows, the picture-books, the toys. And when they were in bed she had to sing to them; they simply wouldn't keep still but crawled out of bed continually and chattered on. Tidemand watched this awhile with blinking eyes; then he turned quickly away and went out. In half an hour or so Hanka came back. "They are asleep now," she said. "I was wondering if I might ask you to stay," said Tidemand. "We live rather informally here; we keep house in a way, but nothing seems to go right for us. If you would like to have dinner with us--I don't know what they are going to give us to eat, but if you will take things as they are?" She looked at him shyly, like a young girl; she said: "Thank you." After dinner, when they had returned to the drawing-room, Hanka said suddenly: "Andreas, you mustn't think I came here to-day thinking that everything could be well again with us. Don't think that. I simply came because I couldn't wait any longer; I had to see you again." "I have not thought of that at all," he said. "But it seems the children don't want to let you go." "I have no thought of asking you again what I asked you for once," she said. "That would be impossible; I know it too well. But perhaps you would allow me to come and visit you at times?" Tidemand bowed his head. She had no thought of coming back; it was all over. "Come whenever you like; come every day," he said. "You are not coming to see me." "Oh, yes, to see you also. I think of you with every breath. Ever since that sail last summer; it began then. You have changed and so have I. But that is neither here nor there. I have seen you on the streets oftener than you know; I have followed you at times." He rose and went in his confusion over to the barometer on the wall; he examined it carefully and tapped the tube. "But in that case--I don't understand why it is necessary to live apart. I mean--Things are in a sad state of disorder here; and then there are the children--" "I didn't come for that!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I did, in a way; of course I did; but--I am afraid you will never be able to forget--Oh, no. I cannot expect that--" She took her wraps.