"You are mine—mine only—yes, yes, Jenny!"
She tore herself away from him and, running to the door, she called aloud for Gunnar. Helge was at her side again in an instant, taking her back in his arms.
They wrestled with each other by the door without a word. It seemed to Jenny that her life depended on her opening it and escaping into Gunnar's room, but feeling Helge close to her, stronger than she, as he held her, it seemed to her that there was no escape—and at last she gave way.
In the grey morning light, he came over to her to kiss her:
"My glorious Jenny. How wonderfully beautiful you are. You are mine now, and everything will come right, will it not? Oh, I love you so.
"Are you tired? You must sleep when I have gone, and I will come to see you again at noon. Sleep soundly, my darling Jenny. Are you so tired?"
"Yes, very tired, Helge."
She was lying with her eyes half closed, looking at the pale morning light coming through the ribs of the blind.
He kissed her when he stood fully dressed, holding his hat; then he kneeled by her bed and put an arm under her shoulder:
"Thank you for tonight. Do you remember that I said those same words to you the first morning in Rome, when we were at Aventine?"
Jenny nodded on her pillow.
"One more kiss—and good-night—my lovely Jenny."
At the door he stopped:
"What about the front door? Is there a key, or is it one of those ordinary ones with a latch?"
"Yes, an ordinary one. You can open it all right from the inside."
She remained in bed with her eyes closed. She saw her own body as it lay under the cover, white, bare, beautiful—a thing
