Peter Klausson's breath," she said, at which Aaroe
smiled.

"In America we have a remedy for that."

"What do you mean?"

"One takes something which scents the breath."

A moment later he asked her to excuse him. He had to arrange a few
things. She was thus alone until some one knocked at the door. It was
Peter Klausson again. He saw her astonishment and smiled.

"We are to lunch together," he said.

"Are we?" she replied.

She looked at the table; it was laid for five.

"Have you heard lately from your husband?"

"No."

A long pause. Was Peter Klausson fit company for Aksel Aaroe? Her
husband's boon companion! Aaroe, who will have nothing but what is
genuine. But as she thought this, she had to admit that Peter
Klausson's impulsive nature was perfectly truthful, which indeed it
was. The waiter came in with a basket of wine, but did not shut the
door after him until he had lifted in some more from outside:
champagne in ice.

"Shall we want so much wine?" asked Ella.

"Oh, it's all right," answered Peter Klausson, evidently delighted.

"But Aaroe does not drink wine!"

"Aaroe? When he asked me to come here to-day--I chanced to look in on
him--we had some first-rate cognac together."

Ella turned to the window, for she felt that she had grown pale.

Very soon Aaroe came in, so courteous and stately that Peter Klausson
felt compelled to take his hands out of his pockets. He hardly dared
to speak. Aaroe said that he had invited the Holmbos, but they had just
sent an excuse. They three must make the best of each other's society.
He led Ella to the table.

It was soon evident that Aaroe was the most delightful and accomplished
of hosts. He spoke English to the waiter, and directed him by frequent
signs, covered his blunders, and smoothed away every little
difficulty, in such a way that it was hardly noticed. All the time he
kept up a constant flow of conversation, narrating small anecdotes
from his experiences of society, but he never poured out wine for
himself, and when he raised his glass his hand shook. Ella had fancied
before that this was the case--it was torture to her now.

Oysters were served for the first course; she relished them
thoroughly, for she was very hungry; but as the meal proceeded, she
became each moment less able to enjoy it. At last her throat seemed to
contract, she felt more inclined to cry than to eat and drink.

At first the reason was not clear to her. She only felt that t