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Hjalmar Olsen was tall enough to catch glimpses of her in all parts of the room. She also noticed him; he soon became a lighthouse in her voyage, but a lighthouse which interested itself in the ships. Thus he now felt that she was in danger so near to Peter Klausson's waistcoat. He knew Peter Klausson. Her tiny feet tripped a waltz, while the plait kept up an accompanying polka.
Aarö, who will have nothing but what is genuine. But as she thought this, she had to admit that Peter Klausson's impulsive nature was perfectly truthful, which indeed it was. The waiter came in with a basket of wine, but did not shut the door after him until he had lifted in some more from outside: champagne in ice. "Shall we want so much wine?" asked Ella.
They were shown into a warm cosy apartment where the table was laid. Aarö helped her off with her things. "I could not endure Peter Klausson's breath," she said, at which Aarö smiled. "In America we have a remedy for that." "What do you mean?" "One takes something which scents the breath." A moment later he asked her to excuse him. He had to arrange a few things.
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