roy of the East Indies. . . . Constance had always had that sort of vanity; but Constance talking or thinking unkindly of her brothers, whom she hadn’t seen for years, that Dorine could not stand, no, that she couldn’t: they were the brothers, they were the family, they were the Van Lowes; and she couldn’t stand it. . . . She had always stood up for Constance, for Constance was a sister, was herself a Van Lowe; but Constance must not start giving herself airs and looking down upon them with her “distinguished,” her “distinguished.” . . . Very well, the brothers were not distinguished, but there was nothing else to be said against them, never had been; and against Constance there was! . . . And Dorine’s voice suddenly sounded very cold, as she asked:
“Shall we go back to the drawing-room?”
Constance, however, absorbed in thought, did not notice the cold voice and took Dorine’s arm. But, when she again passed Adolphine’s table, she heard her call quickly, in a startled tone:
“No trumps!”
“Ss! Ss! Ss!” Uncle Ruyvenaer, who was losing, hissed between his teeth. “What a cardholder! . . . Constance, won’t you cut in after this rubber?”
Constance was sure that they were still talking about her:
“No, thanks, Uncle; I really don’t feel like playing to-night. . . .”
Her voice sounded faint, in spite of herself. . . . She stopped for a moment, but, when nobody else
