For a long time, Constance had not been to Mamma van Lowe's Sunday-evenings; and at first Mamma had not insisted. Now, however, one afternoon, she said, gently:
"Are you never coming again on a Sunday, Constance?"
She saw that her mother had suddenly become very nervous and she was sorry that she had not made an effort and overcome her reluctance to attend the family-gatherings after that terrible evening.
"Yes, Mamma," she said, without hesitation, "I will come. This is Saturday: I will come to-morrow."
The old woman leant back wearily in her chair, nodded her head up and down, as though she knew all sorts of sad things:
"It is so sad . . . about Van Naghel," she said. "Bertha is going through a lot of trouble."
It seemed as if Mamma wished to talk about it; but Constance, with an affected indifference to her relations' affairs, asked no questions.
The next evening, Constance and Addie were ready to start for the Alexanderstraat.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked Van der Welcke.
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