very solemnly, to Karel that this was Ber-tha’s day, with a certain respect for that day on which the upper two and three of the Hague sometimes put in an appearance, while Gerrit always joked about the inaccessible grandeur of those reception-days of her excellency his sister, as he called her in chaff. . . .
Van der Welcke had it on his lips to ask Constance if Bertha knew that she was coming, or if Constance had at least mentioned her intention to Mamma van Lowe. But he did not feel in the mood to provoke a discussion; and in any case Constance would do as she chose. It was raining; he heard her tell the maid to order a carriage; and, as he was staying at home, to bore himself in Addie’s absence in his little smoking-room, smoking cigarette on cigarette, he saw his wife step into the brougham at four o’clock and was struck with the elegance of her dress. He shrugged his shoulders, in gloomy disapproval; he was in a bad temper these days; he too was permanently upset by that rotten libel, that confounded rag, against which he had been helpless. He threw himself on his sofa again and smoked and smoked, could not make up his mind to dress and go to the Plaats, was almost unconsciously avoiding his friends.
Constance felt very calm, but had retained a certain bitterness all this time. The thought just occurred to her how Bertha would take her visit; but, even though the family treated the question differently, she meant to show Bertha that she considered it an obvious thing to call on her at-home day.
