Part 34 (2/2)

Wondering faces appeared here and there at the windows. They were looking at him as if he were a criminal--a burglar trying to force an entry in broad daylight. Half-running, he hastened back to the main streets of the town. Then the fury seized him again--a pa.s.sion of wounded pride and defiance. ”Am I to be taken for a boy?” he said to himself angrily.

He pa.s.sed a row of waiting cabs. One of the men touched his cap inquiringly, but Olof shook his head--the fellow had an honest face.

The last in the row gave him what he sought--a sly red face with s.h.i.+fty eyes.

”Eh? Take you?... That's easy enough! I know the very house.

First-rate girls, all of them, and no trouble. 'Tis the best sort you'll be wanting, I take it?”

”Yes.”

”That's the style. Just step in, now, and we'll be there....”

The cab rumbles away; Olof leans back, feeling himself again.

Through a gateway into a cobbled yard. The driver gets down, and Olof follows suit. The man knocks with the handle of his whip at a door.

”'Tis no good coming at this time--the girls aren't here yet.” And the door is slammed in his face.

”Drive on, then! Drive to the devil, only let's get out of this,”

cries Olof.

”Nay, nay, no call to give up now we're on the way.” The driver swings out into the street again, and tries another entrance of the same sort farther on.

Olof stood half-dazed, waiting.

This time the knock was answered by a girl's voice, bright and pleasant. The driver and the girl exchanged whispers through the door.

”Sober? Ay, he's sober enough. Young chap, and plenty of money--wants the best sort.”

Olof's blood boiled. Was he to be bargained for like a beast in the cattle market? He was on the point of calling the man away, when the door opened a little. ”Right you are, then,” said the man, with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

”Good evening--won't you come in?” A young girl, neatly dressed, held the door open for Olof with a smile.

He went through the pa.s.sage into a little parlour. The heavy-scented air of the place was at once soothing and exciting to his senses.

”Sit down, won't you? But what are you looking so serious about? Has your girl thrown you over--or what?”

”Now, how on earth did you guess that?” cried Olof in sudden relief, thankful that the girl was so bright and talkative. He felt all at once that he too must talk--of anything, nothing, or he could not stay in the place a minute.

”Guess? Why, that's easy enough. They always come here when there's anything wrong with--the others. And there's always something wrong with some of them. Was she pretty?” The girl looked at him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

”Pretty?--yes, that she was, pretty as you, nearly.”

”Puh!” laughed the girl. ”And she kissed you, I suppose?”

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