about him, as though he wanted to run away as soon as he could. But he made an effort and suddenly asked Constance:
“Are you fond of china?”
“Delft, do you mean?”
“Yes. Are you fond of vases? I love vases. I have all sorts of vases. Have you ever thought of a vase: the shape, the symbol of a vase? No, you don’t know what I mean. Will you come and see me one day, in my rooms? Will you come and lunch: you and your husband? Then I’ll show you my vases.”
Constance smiled:
“I should love to, Ernst. Have you so many rare vases?”
“Yes,” he said in a proud whisper. “I have some very rare ones. I am always afraid they will be stolen. They are my children.”
And he laughed; and she laughed too, while shrinking a little from him and from coming to those rooms filled with vases that were children. She did not know what more to say to Ernst; and she now told Mamma, softly, that old Mr. and Mrs. van der Welcke, her father- and mother-in-law, had asked them to Driebergen.
Mrs. van Lowe beamed and whispered:
“Child, I am so glad! I am so glad they have done that. It’s been running in my head all this time, what attitude they would take up to you. After all, Adriaan is their grandson as well as mine.”
