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 "She met them at the Thiergarten—she writes. She says—oh, she can be brutal sometimes, Borghild." Francesca went quickly across the room, pulled open the door of the stove, and threw the letter in. Then she sank down in an arm-chair and burst into tears.

Jenny went to her and put one arm round her neck.

"Cesca, dearest little Cesca!"

Francesca pressed her face against Jenny's arm:

"She looked so miserable, poor thing. She hung on his arm, and he seemed sullen and angry. I can quite imagine it. I am sorry for her—fancy allowing herself to become dependent on him in such a way. He has brought her to her knees, I am sure. How could she be such an idiot, when she knew him? Oh, but think of it, Jenny! He is going to have a child by somebody else—oh, my God! my God!"

Jenny sat on the arm of the chair. Cesca nestled close to her:

"I suppose you are right—I have no instincts. Perhaps I never loved him really, but I should have liked to have a child by him. And yet I could not make up my mind. Sometimes he wanted me to marry him straight off, go to the registry office, but I wouldn't. They would have been so angry with me at home, and people would have said we were obliged to marry, if we had done it that way. I did not want that either, although I knew they thought the worst of me all the same, but that did not worry me. I knew I was ruining my reputation for his sake, but I did not care, and I don't care now, I tell you.

"But he thought I refused because I was afraid he would not marry me afterwards. 'Let's go to the registry office first, then, you silly girl,' he said, but I would not go. He thought it was all sham. 'You cold!' he said; 'you are not cold any longer than you choose to be.' Sometimes I almost thought I wasn't. Perhaps it was only fright, for he was such a brute;