phine, tartly and reproachfully, as though Constance had no right to give a dinner.
“Not a dinner-party. Van Vreeswijck and Paul are dining with us.”
“Van Vreeswijck? Oh!” said Adolphine. “The one at Court?”
“He’s a chamberlain of the Regent’s,” said Constance, simply.
“Oh!”
“He’s an old friend of Van der Welcke’s,” said Constance, almost in self-excuse.
“Oh! Well, then I won’t disturb you. . . .”
The dining-room door was open. Adolphine peeped in and saw the three men talking over their dessert. She saw the candles, the flowers, the dinner-jackets of the men; she noticed Constance’ dress. . . .
“Do come in, Adolphine,” said Constance, mastering herself and in her gentlest voice.
“No, thanks. If you’re having a dinner-party, I won’t come in, at dessert. . . . Oof! How hot it is in here, Constance: do you still keep on fires? It’s suffocating in your house; and so dark, with those candles. How pale you look! Aren’t you feeling well?”
“Pale? No, I’m feeling very well indeed.”
“Oh, I thought you must be tired or ill, you look so awfully pale! You’re not looking well. Perhaps you’ve put on too much powder. Or is it your dress that makes you look pale? Is that one of your Brussels dresses? I don’t think it improves
