“Well, it’s no good sitting here solemn as an owl!  I just thought I’d look you up—­it’s a long time since we met, isn’t it?  Let’s have a little talk together—­talk of love, for instance.  I’ve learned a deal about that myself since the old days.”

Olof was all ice now—­the bold, scornful look in her eyes, and her short, bitter laugh froze every kindlier feeling in him.

Then suddenly the scornful smile vanishes from her face.

“Curse you all!” she cries wildly.  “Oh, I know what men are now!” She stamps her foot violently.  “Beasts—­beasts, every one of you—­only that some wear horns and others not, and it makes but little difference after all....

“Ay, you may stare!  You’re one of them yourself—­though maybe just so much above the ruck of them that I’m willing to waste words on you.  Listen to me!” She springs to her feet and moves towards him.  “I hate you and despise you every one.  Oh, I could tear the eyes out of every man on this earth—­and yours first of all!”

A wild hatred flames in her big brown eyes, her face is contorted with passion; she is more like a fury than a human being.

“And as for your love ...” she went on, flinging herself down on the sofa once more.  “Ay, you can twitter about it all so prettily, can’t you?—­till you’ve tempted us so near that the beast in you can grab us with its claws!  Love—­who is it you love?  Shall I tell you?  ’Tis yourselves!  You beasts!  We’re just pretty dolls, and sweet little pets to be played with, aren’t we?  Until you fall on us with your wolfish lust ... ’tis all you think or care for—­just that!”

She spoke with such intensity of feeling that Olof never thought of saying a word in defence—­he felt as if he were being lashed and beaten—­violently, yet no worse than he deserved.

“Well, why don’t you say something?  Aren’t you going to stand up for your sex?  Why don’t you turn me out, eh?  Fool—­like the rest of you!  What is it you offer us, tell me that?  Your bodies!  And what else?  Your bodies again—­ugh!  And sweet words enough as long as you want us; but as soon as you’ve had your fill—­you turn over on the other side and only want to sleep in peace....”

She gave him one long scornful glance, and sat silent for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak.

“Well—­what are you sitting there writhing about for like a sick cat?  What’s the matter now?  Oh, you’re married, aren’t you?—­living in the state of holy matrimony ... take a wife and cleave to her ... one flesh, and all the rest of it ... flesh!  Ugh!  Holy matrimony indeed!  As if that could hide the filth and misery of it all!  No!  Beasts glaring over the fence at what you want—­and when it pleases you to break it down, why not?  And your wives—­shall I tell you what they are to you—­what they know they are?  The same as we others, no more ... your....”

A dark flush rose to Olof’s cheeks, and he broke in violently: