“Oh, so-so! Of course, she’s Ka-rel’s sis-ter, but I think her not so ve-ry distin-guished.”
“Oh, well, I think her rather smart!” growled Karel, a little crossly.
“Oh, Ka-rel! . . . Well, smart, if you like, but not what I call good ta-aste.”
“Rather foreign, I suppose?” asked Anna IJkstra.
“Ye-es. And so many rings: that’s what I don’t like. And her hair: all curled and waved, puffed right out, you know. So ridic-ulous . . . because she’s ve-ry grey, you know. . . .”
“Oh, really!”
“Yes. What terrible wea-ther, An-na. . . . We ought to be go-ing on, Ka-rel.”
“Where?” growled Karel.
“To the Van Ra-vens.”
“Oh, no!” muttered Karel. “It’s raining so. . . . And I have to get out all the time and ring the bell.”
“But haven’t you a footman?” asked Anna, pretending not to know.
“I say, what next!” muttered Karel. “A footman, indeed!”
“But, Ka-rel, in that case, let us just go on to Constance’.”
“Oh, are you going to Mrs. van der Welcke’s?”
“Yes, we must re-ally pay her a vis-it, to-day. . . .”
“Well, come along then!” growled Karel, who was irritable without knowing why.
