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At my seat at Oestanvik I have little, little patience-cards. I fancy really that they would please my cousin. The Landed-proprietor seats himself on the other side of Louise: the Candidate gives some extraordinary shrugs. Louise. This is not patience, but a little witchcraft, by which I read Fate. Shall I prophesy to you, Cousin Thure? Landed-proprietor. Oh, yes! prophesy something to me.
Such things whiled away very pleasantly the hours till eleven, when he went to bed, and it was seldom that he had to set out Patience-cards to tide him over the slow minutes. But every now and then and tonight was one of those occasions there occurred evenings when he never went out to dinner even if he was asked, because he "was busy indoors."
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