Gerda’s abstraction had by this time become so extreme, her face so sad, that he couldn’t bear it any longer. He walked across to her; and in a low, emphatic voice, under cover of Mrs. Torp’s voluble hunt for her lost pamphlet, he begged for leave to accompany them on their excursion.

“It’s too late, Wolf!” she repeated, looking at him with eyes that seemed five years older than they’d been yesterday. “Haven’t I told you it is? Why do you keep teasing me so?”

He bent down above her now and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“It isn’t too late, Gerda. You’re taking everything much too hard! I love you far too much for anything to be too late!”