In the end he went home and wrote a letter. There are many ways of interpreting one’s feelings. Peter’s was not very personal because his eloquence was based on a lover’s advertisement in a newspaper and of course any mention of marriage was carefully avoided. And somehow the handwriting was not quite his. And he did not sign it Peter Selamb, but “Frida’s own Elk.” That is what he did.
“Never put your name unnecessarily to any document...”
The answer came by return post and was both pleasing and disquieting. Frida wrote that she was doing well and did not need to bow down to anybody, but that she might find use for a new Laundry stove of the Orion make and a blue silk coat with white revers. And then she allowed herself to hint at the possibility of further sympathy.
Peter fully realized the risk of payment in advance, but he also understood that without some magnanimity he would make no progress at all. So with a swimming head he sent a round sum for the two objects aforesaid. At the same time he wrote that he had found a little refuge well protected from the eyes of the world where they might meet and sympathize. The refuge was Stellan’s flat. Stellan had been ordered North again, much to his annoyance, and Peter had charge of the keys. He now hurried to the elegant little two-roomed flat in Karlavägen, removed the name plate, aired the rooms, put away all Stellan’s belongings into the wardrobes and sat down to wait.
Frida arrived dressed in the new blue silk coat and with the whole warmth of the new Laundry heater of “Orion” make around her.
“I always keep my promises,” she whispered, “I’m made that way.... But goodness me! how smart this is. Are you living here too, Sir?”
“I have taken all this for your sake, Frida,” said Peter pressing her to him. “It has cost me a good deal.”
And then at last Peter got his reward....
He lived in supreme well-being in a world of peace. Late on Sunday morning, long after Frida had stolen home, he lay quite still and watched the sunlight creep across the beautiful Persian carpet. It was a strange feeling of relief, it was as if it was only now that he had at last given the _coup de grâce_ to the nightmare of his youth, the stubborn Brundin.