after their talk that afternoon, and suddenly, sobbing, she threw her arms around him, pressed him to her:
"Love me!" she implored.
"I do love you. . . . It won't do for us to stay here. . . . It's better that you should be quite by yourself, in your own house, your own mistress. . . ."
"We've talked about it so often!" she sobbed.
"There will be money enough, Tilly; I shall make money."
"You said five thousand guilders."
"No, there will be more. Don't be afraid, have no care, there will be enough . . . and you can do as you please. I promise, I promise."
"But it's a sacrifice for you . . ."
"To leave the house?"
"Yes."
"I'm fond of the house . . . but it's better that we should go to the Hague."
"Your parents . . . they will all miss you."
"Now don't make difficulties, Tilly."
"No, Addie, no . . ."
"How do you mean, no?"
"I won't go to the Hague."
"Why not?"
"It's too late. . . . It wouldn't alter a thing. . . . It's too late."
"What's too late?"
She sobbed and embraced him. She clutched him to her, she covered his lips with glowing kisses.
"Oh, let it be!" she said, in between her kisses; and her voice sounded utterly discouraged.
"Why, Tilly? Why? I want to see you happy. . . . It's decided now: we're going to the Hague. I'll look out for a house."
She shook her head.
