I am a little jealous of Van der Welcke, where Addie is concerned. Silly of me, isn’t it?”
Bertha looked severe, blinked her eyes. Uncle gathered in trick after trick:
“Game and rubber to us. We’ll carry on the stakes, shall we?”
The sandwiches and drinks went round.
“Gerrit,” said Constance, as she moved her chair beside his, “you’re happy, aren’t you, in your house, with your little wife and your children?”
Gerrit looked surprised:
“Why do you ask?”
“I had the impression.”
“But why do you ask?”
“Well, aren’t you? . . .”
“Yes, of course, of course. Of course I am, of course I am. Adeline!”
He beckoned to his wife, a plump, fair-haired little doll, a dear, sweet little woman of twenty-eight: she had seven children already, because Gerrit, who had married rather late in life, said that he must make up for lost time and get a whole troop together.
“Constance wants to know if we’re happy.”
“Silly Constance! Why, of course we are!” said Adeline.
“You have a dear little troop of children.”
“Your boy is a darling, too.”
They smiled, happy in their offspring. Gerrit, restless, moved his big limbs almost violently:
“Children, that’s the one thing in life!” he
