"Good night."
"Poor Falk!" said Sellén to Olle. "Now it's his turn to go through the mill. But there's no help for it; it's like changing one's teeth; a man is not grown up until he has had his experience."
"What about the girl?" asked Olle, merely in order to show a polite interest, for his thoughts were elsewhere.
"She's all right in her way, but Falk takes the matter seriously; she does too, apparently, as long as she sees any prospect of winning him; but unless Falk's quick about it, she will grow tired of waiting, and who knows whether she won't amuse herself meanwhile with somebody else? No, you don't understand these things; a man shouldn't hesitate in a love-affair, but grab with both hands; otherwise somebody else will step in and spoil the game. Have you ever been in love, Olle?"
"I had an affair with one of our servants at home; there were consequences, and my father turned me out of the house. Since then I haven't looked at a woman."
"That was nothing very complicated. But to be betrayed, as it is called, that's what hurts, I can tell you! One must have nerves like the strings of a violin to play that game. We shall see what sort of a fight Falk will make; with some men it goes very deep, and that's a pity.
"The door is open, come in Olle! I hope the beds are properly made, so that you will lie softly; but you must excuse my old bed-maker, she cannot shake up the feather-beds; her fingers are weak, don't you see, and the pillow, I'm afraid, may be hard and lumpy."
They had climbed the stairs and were entering the studio.
"It smells damp, as if the servant had aired the room or scrubbed it."
"You are laughing at yourself! There can be no more scrubbing, you have no longer a floor."