"Yes," said Jenny quietly.
"Good-bye. I am happy about you for Helge's sake—believe me, Jenny."
She had written to Helge the night before about her visit to his home, and when she read her letter through, she realized how very cold and poor was the part about her meeting with his mother. When writing to him that night she told him about his father's visit, but she tore the letter up and began another. It was so difficult to tell him about his father's call and not to mention hers to Mrs. Gram. She did not like having secrets with one from the other. She felt humiliated on Helge's behalf at having been initiated all at once in the misery of his home, and she ended by not saying a word about it in her letter—it would be easier to explain when he came.
Towards the end of May Jenny had not heard from Helge for several days, and was beginning to fear that something had happened. If no letter came the next day she would send a wire. In the afternoon, when she was in her studio, there was a knock at the door. When she opened she was seized and hugged and kissed by a man who stood on the landing.
"Helge!" She was overjoyed. "Helge! how you frightened me, you dear boy. Let me look at you. Is it really and truly you?" and she pulled the travelling-cap off his head.
"I hope it could not be anybody else," he said laughingly.
"But what does all this mean?"
"I will tell you," he said, pressing his face against her neck. "I wanted to give you a surprise, and so I did, it seems."
After the first tender greetings were over they sat down hand in hand on the sofa.
