“Thanks; it's quite all right. I'd rather....”
No doubt but that she is uneasy; she is afraid lest I should say
something. She sits once more looking away, but I can see she is
breathing heavily. Ah, she need have no fear; I would not trouble her
with so much as a word.
Now I had to take the empty plate and cup and set them back on the
table, but I feared to startle her in my approach, for she was still
sitting with averted head. I made a little noise with the things to draw
her attention, set them down, and thanked her.
She tried to put on a housewifely tone:
“Won't you have some more? I'm sure you can't have....”
“No, thank you very much.... Shall I pack up the things now? But I doubt
if I can.”
I happened to glance at my hands; they had swelled up terribly in the
warm room, and were all shapeless and heavy now. I could hardly pack up
things with hands like that. She guessed my thought, looked first at my
hands, then out across the room, and said, with a little smile:
“Have you no gloves?”
“No; I never wear them.”
I went back to my place, waited till she should have packed up the
things so I could carry the basket down. Suddenly she turned her head
towards me, still without looking up, and asked again:
“Where do you come from?”
“From Nordland.”
Pause.