She started to cry. “You are,” she said. “You’re in love with Inger. I know you are. I know.” If Susanne knew, it suddenly struck me, then Inger must know as well. A sort of light flashed in my head. If she knew, then it might not be so difficult to get off with Inger. At a school party, for example, I could go over and ask her to dance and she would know what was what,
