Ragnhild, however, had done a thing on her own
responsibility which perhaps she ought not to have done--she had taken the
photos from the piano and thrown them in the stove. "Was it wrong, now?"
"No, no, Ragnhild! No!"
She told us, also, that she had been through Fruen's wardrobe and sorted
out all handkerchiefs that were not hers. Oh, she had found lots of things
up in her room--a bag with Engineer Lassen's initials worked on, a book
with his full name in, some sweets in an envelope with his writing--and
she had burnt it all.
A strange girl, Ragnhild--yes! Was there ever such an instinct as hers? It
was like the devil turned monk. Ragnhild, who made such use herself of the
thick red stair-carpet and the keyholes everywhere!
It suited me and my work well enough that the Captain had not ordered the
carriage before; we had got the trench finished now all the way up, and I
could manage without Nils for laying the pipes. I should want all hands,
though, when it came to filling in again.
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