Jenny changed her dress in the dark; she put the kettle on and arranged the anemones and the almond sprigs before she called him in and lighted up.
He took her again in his arms and said:
"Oh, Jenny, you are so lovely. Everything about you is lovely; it is heavenly to be with you. I wish I could be with you always."
She took his face between her two hands.
"Jenny—you wish it—that we could be always together?"
She looked into his beautiful brown eyes:
"Yes, Helge; I do."
"Do you wish that this spring—our spring—never would end?"
"Yes—oh yes." She threw herself suddenly into his arms and kissed him; her half-open lips and closed eyes begged for more kisses; his words about their spring, that should never cease, awoke a painful anxiety in her heart that the spring and their dream would come to an end. And yet behind it all was a dread, which she did not try to explain to herself, but it came into existence when he asked if she wished they could always be together.
"I wish I were not going home," said Helge sadly.
"But I am going home soon too," she said softly, "and we shall probably come back here together."
"You are quite determined to go? Are you sorry that I have upset all your plans in this way?"
She gave him a hurried kiss and ran to the kettle, which was boiling over.
"No, you silly boy. I had almost made up my mind before, because mamma wants me badly." She gave a short laugh. "I am ashamed of myself—she is so pleased that I am coming home to help her, and it is really only to be with my lover. But it is all right. I can live cheaper at home even if I help
