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Updated: June 8, 2025
This he did, and later he came almost every day, but in spite of all the cordial invitations he continued living at the inn. Now came a restless period for Mogens. At first Thora's proximity brought back to life all his sad and gloomy memories. Often he had suddenly to begin a conversation with one of the others or leave, so that his emotion might not completely master him.
The windows were open and the blinds were drawn. Mogens leaned in over the sill and the blinds lay on his back. It was grateful to the eye after all the summer-sun on forest and water and in the air to look into the subdued, soft, quiet light of a room. A tall woman of opulent figure stood within, the back toward the window, and was putting flowers in a large vase.
"I might as well say it at once," continued Mogens, "I want to ask you something, but you mustn't laugh at me." Camilla jumped down from the chair. "Tell me no, I want to tell you something myself here is the table and there is the hedge, if you won't be my bride, I'll leap with the basket over the hedge and stay away. One!"
But somehow or other they must have become reconciled, for when on their way back they reached the oak again, Camilla went underneath it and looked up into its crown. She tripped from one side to the other, gesticulated with her hands and sang, and Mogens had to stand near the hazelbushes to see what sort of a figure he had cut.
Her head rested a little sidewise on the pillow, her hair fell over her white brow, one of her cheeks was a brighter red than the other, now and then there was a faint quivering in the calmly-arched eyelids, and the lines of her mouth undulated imperceptibly between unconscious seriousness and slumbering smiles. Mogens stood for a long time and looked at her, happy and quiet.
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