'Twas their
affair! Fru Falkenberg had changed for the worse. There was no denying it;
she had suffered damage, and was thoroughly spoiled now; it hardly
mattered any longer what she did. Ay, and she had taken to lying as well.
First, music-hall tricks with her eyes, then on till it got to lying. A
white lie today, tomorrow a blacker one, each leading to another. And what
of it? Life could afford to waste her, to throw her away.
We put in three days' work at the trench; only a few feet left now. There
might be three degrees of frost now at nights, but it did not stop us; we
went steadily on. Grindhusen had come back, and was set to tunnelling
under the kitchen where the pipes were to go; but the stable and cowshed
was more important, and I did the underground work for these myself. Nils
and Lars ran the last bit of trech up meanwhile, the last bit of way to
the reservoir.
Today, at last, I questioned Grindhusen about Fruen.
"So you didn't bring Fruen back with you again this last time?"
"No.
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