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 riage meant anything else but what you read in silly girl stories. When I began to understand, I knew I would rather kill myself than marry him. If they had succeeded in forcing me to it, I would have led them a life, taking all the lovers I could get just out of spite and to pay them out. Papa sees it now, and he says I can have money whenever I want it.

"Lennart was very weak after his illness, and the doctor said he must go into the country—and I myself was tired and overworked, so I said I ought to go away for a change and a rest as I was going to have a baby. I got his permission to write to papa for money. We got it and went to Wärmland, having a lovely time. Lennart was getting well and strong, and I took up my painting again. When he understood I was not expecting a child really, he asked if I had not made a mistake, and I told him I had tricked him, not wanting to lie to him. But he is angry with me for it, and I can see that he does not quite believe me. If he understood my nature, don't you think he would believe in me?"

"Yes, Cesca dear.'"" [sic]

"You see, I had told him the same thing once before—about the baby, I mean—in the autumn, when he was so sad and we were not happy. I wanted him to be pleased and to be kind to me, and he was. It was a lovely time. I had really lied, but I began to believe it myself at last, for I thought God would make it true, so that I need not disappoint him. But God did not do it.

"I am so unhappy because I can't have one. Do you think it is true—some people say it is so," she whispered emotionally—"that a woman cannot have a child if she cannot feel—passionate?"

"No," said Jenny sharply. "I am sure it is only nonsense."

"I am sure everything would come all right then, for Lennart wishes it so very much. And I—oh, I think I should be