"I think it is hideous," said Francesca, "but, of course, I don't know your mother's taste."
"What on earth shall I do with it, then?" sighed Helge.
"Give it to your mother," said Jenny. "She will be pleased that you have remembered her. Besides, people at home like those things. We who live out here see so much that we become more critical."
Francesca reached her hand for Ahlin's cigarette-case, but he did not want to let her have it; they whispered together eagerly, then she flung it away, calling: "Giuseppe!"
Helge understood that she ordered the man to bring her some cigarettes. Ahlin got up suddenly: "My dear Miss Jahrman—I meant only to … you know it is not good for you to smoke so much."
Francesca rose. She had tears in her eyes.
"Never mind. I want to go home."
"Miss Jahrman—Cesca." Ahlin stood holding her cloak and begged her quietly not to go. She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Yes; I want to go home—you can see for yourself that I am quite impossible tonight. I want to go home alone. No, Jenny, you must not come with me."
Heggen rose too. Helge remained alone at the table.
"You don't imagine that we would let you go alone this time of night?" said Heggen.
"You mean to forbid me, perhaps?"
"I do absolutely."
"Don't, Gunnar," said Jenny Winge. She sent the men away and they sat down at the table in silence, while Jenny, with her arms round Francesca, drew her aside and talked to her soothingly. After a while they came back to the table.
But the company was somewhat out of sorts. Miss Jahrman sat close to Jenny; she had got her cigarettes and was smoking
