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Sandemose, Aksel, 1899-1965 / The werewolf; Varulven (1966)

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No regrets

Pale and hollow-eyed Erling picked up the telephone and called his friend Øystein Myhre. "How are the finances, Øystein?"

"What's the matter, Erling?"

"Can you let me have a couple of hundred?"

"What is it? I can hear something is wrong."

"Nothing much."

Øystein sighed. "Well, well—I saw you in town a few times."

"I've had an attack."

"How long?"

"What day is it today, Øystein?"

Øystein whistled and said, "You're at home then? It's Thursday."

"I can't leave the house, Øystein. Can you manage to send me the money?"

After a short pause Øystein replied, "No, Erling, I don't want to send the money with someone else. I have the car today and I'll come up to Lier myself. O.K.?"

  [p. 211]  

"That suits me very well—only, it doesn't look too good here. Things are broken and—"

"Who has been with you?"

"I think I've been alone."

"Will you promise to stay put 'til I come—in a couple of hours?"

"It is entirely out of the question for me to go anywhere. I must owe whoever brought me home, if I didn't pay for the taxi in advance. It stinks of liquor—the bottles I didn't empty I must have crushed with a hammer. Could you bring me a little red wine?"

"I will."

"You know—for tapering off."

"I understand. Go to bed until I get there."

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