“And then, in Rome,” cried Cateau, clasping her fat hands, “such things hap-pen!”
Adolphine rose: her visit was paid. She had a great deal more to talk about, among others the way in which Bertha had, so to speak, forced her daughter Emilie into her engagement with Van Raven; but it was growing late: she took her leave. Karel and Cateau went straight to the brougham:
“Oh, de-ar!” said Cateau, in a startled voice. “How wet the carriage has got!”
They drove to pay their visits. First, they drove to the Ruyvenaers: Karel rang; fortunately, Uncle and Aunt were out. Cards for Uncle and Aunt. Next—Cateau consulted her list—to Mrs. van Friesesteijn, an old friend of Mrs. van Lowe’s. At home. A cantankerous, shrivelled little old lady, always alert for news:
“Glad to see you, Cateau. Sit down, Van Lowe. So, Constance is back, I hear.”
“Ye-es,” drawled Cateau, “it’s ve-ry unpleas-ant for us.”
“And how is Constance?”
“Oh, she’s all right,” said Karel, casually.
“You see, me-vrouw,” droned Cateau, “she’s Karel’s sis-ter, isn’t she?”
“So you’re all receiving her?”
“Yes, because of Mamma, you know.”
“And Bertha too?”
“Ye-e-es, Berth-a, too.”
“And will she go to Court again, do you think?”
