the passage, strapped on his sword, put on his cap. Dorine followed him out:
"So you're going to him? Well, when you've seen him . . . you won't ask me again if he's mad."
And she made a rush for the front-door.
"Dorine . . ."
"No, thank you," she said, excitedly. "I'm going to Constance; to Adolphine . . . and then . . . then I shall go home to bed."
She had opened the door and, in another moment, she was gone. Gerrit saw Adeline weeping, wringing her hands in terror:
"Oh, Gerrit!"
"Come, come, I don't expect it's so very bad. Ernst has always been queer."
"I shall go to Mamma, Gerrit."
"Yes, darling, but don't make her nervous. Tell her that I'm on my way to Ernst and that I don't believe he's so bad as all that. Dorine always exaggerates and she hasn't told us what Ernst is like. . . . There, good-bye, darling, and don't cry. Ernst has always been queer."
He flung his great-coat over his shoulders, for the weather was like November, cold and wet. Outside, the pelting rain beat against his face; and he saw Dorine ahead of him, wobbling down the street under her umbrella, with that angry, straddling walk of hers. She turned out of the
