am full of sympathy for you: you are my sister and I am fond of you; but that doesn’t alter the fact that you were wrong, that you ought not to have come on my day. Why did you do it? I am so glad to see you at any other time. But just on an at-home day, when you risked meeting, well, just the people whom you did meet: Mrs. van Eilenburgh, the Van den Heuvel Steyns! Why did you do it? What made you do it?”
“So I am not fit to appear at my sister’s at-home day?”
“Please, Constance, don’t take it like that. I am not unsympathetic. We even had a talk once . . .”
Constance laughed aloud:
“Once!” she said. “Once!”
“Life is very busy, Constance. But I am always glad to see you. Only, only . . .”
“Only not on your days.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“No, it’s mine.”
“Mrs. van Eilenburgh is a niece of . . .”
“De Staffelaer.”
It was the first time that his name had been mentioned between them.
“The Van den Heuvel Steyns are . . .”
“His friends.”
“So, Constance, you understand for yourself . . .”
“I told you on Tuesday, Bertha, I am going to make my fifteen years count.”
“Constance, don’t attempt impossibilities.”
