—and God knows where she got the money from. It seemed to her quite as natural for him to have been in Paris as in a restaurant in Christiania. It was easy for people like her to speak of self-reliance. An unhappy love affair in Paris, which she forgot in Rome, was probably the greatest of her trials, and made her feel so confident and brave and able to solve the questions of life.
Her shape was almost scraggy, but the face was healthy and the colouring beautiful.
He wished he could speak to Miss Jahrman, who was wide awake now, but she was engaged by Ahlin and Heggen. Miss Winge was eating a poached egg and bread and drinking hot milk.
"The customers of this place look rather mysterious," he said, turning to her. "Perfect criminal types, it seems to me."
"Possibly—we have a little of everything here, but you must remember that Rome is a modern metropolis and that many people have night work. This is one of the few places open this time of night. But aren't you hungry? I am going to have some black coffee."
"Do you always stay out so late?" Helge looked at his watch; it was four o'clock.
"Oh no," she laughed. "Only now and then. We watch the sun rise and then go and have breakfast. Miss Jahrman does not want to go home tonight."
Helge scarcely knew why he stayed on. They had some green liqueur and he felt drowsy after it, but the others laughed and chatted, mentioning people and places unfamiliar to him.
"Don't talk to me about Douglas—with his preachings—I have done with him. One day last June, when he and the Finn—you remember him, Lindberg?—and I were alone in the life class, the Finn and I went out to have some coffee.
