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When
I
had
finished
half-a
score
of
pages
,
perhaps
twelve
,
often
with
much
effort
,
at
times
with
long
intervals
,
in
which
I
wrote
in
vain
and
had
to
tear
the
page
in
two
,
I
had
become
tired
,
quite
stiff
with
cold
and
fatigue
,
and
I
arose
and
went
out
into
the
street
.
For
the
last
half-hour
,
too
,
I
had
been
disturbed
by
the
crying
of
the
children
inside
the
family
room
,
so
that
I
could
not
,
in
any
case
,
have
written
any
more
just
then
.
So
I
took
a
long
time
up
over
Drammensveien
,
and
stayed
away
till
the
evening
,
pondering
incessantly
,
as
I
walked
along
,
as
to
how
I
would
continue
my
drama
.
Before
I
came
home
in
the
evening
of
this
day
,
the
following
happened
:
I
stood
outside
a
shoemaker
's
shop
far
down
in
Carl
Johann
Street
,
almost
at
the
railway
square
.
God
knows
why
I
stood
just
outside
this
shoemaker
's
shop
.
I
looked
into
the
window
as
I
stood
there
,
but
did
not
,
by
the
way
,
remember
that
I
needed
shoes
then
;
my
thoughts
were
far
away
in
other
parts
of
the
world
.
A
swarm
of
people
talking
together
passed
behind
my
back
,
and
I
heard
nothing
of
what
was
said
.
Then
a
voice
greeted
me
loudly
:
"
Good-evening
.
"
It
was
"
Missy
"
who
bade
me
good-evening
!
I
answered
at
random
,
I
looked
at
him
,
too
,
for
a
while
,
before
I
recognized
him
.
"
Well
,
how
are
you
getting
along
?
"
he
inquired
.
"
Oh
,
always
well
...
as
usual
.
"
"
By
the
way
,
tell
me
,
"
said
he
,
"
are
you
,
then
,
still
with
Christie
?
"
"
Christie
?
"
"
I
thought
you
once
said
you
were
book-keeper
at
Christie
's
?
"
