leave Brussels? That’s what we all ask ourselves. Bertha was saying, only the other day, that you would make things impossible for her, if you thought of pushing yourself and getting yourself presented. And she declared positively that she would never ask you to her official dinners.”
“Anything more?”
“Anything more, anything more: what more do you want? I’m not saying it to offend you, Constance, but because I like you and want to save you from further disappointments. Do you think it pleasant for Bertha and me to have our friends talking about our family as they are doing? And that they do so is your fault entirely.”
Constance’ hands were shaking; and, in order to employ them, she began to fold the laces lying on the table.
“Is that real Brussels?” asked Adolphine, with apparent guilelessness.
“Yes.”
“Where do you get the money, Constance, to spend on those expensive things?”
“I get it from my lovers,” said Constance.
“Wha-at?” cried Adolphine, in a terrified voice.
Constance gave a nervous laugh:
“I tell you, from all my lovers.”
“Oh, don’t say things like that, even in fun! I thought it was imitation lace.”
“Yes, but you don’t know much about lace, do you?” said Constance, very calmly. “Or about diamonds? And you have not the least notion how
