to
have a lot of children."

"I say, you were indiscreet enough to ask if we were happy; now it's my
turn. I don't believe that you and your husband get on so very well
together."

"Oh, well, we understand each other! Perhaps not even that! But Addie
keeps us together. We both dote on him. Van der Welcke dotes on his boy.
So do I. So do I. He is everything, both to him ... and to me...." Her
eyes filled with tears. "We are nothing now ... to each other!" She was
sitting between Gerrit and Adeline. "I did so _want_ all of you!" she
continued, taking each of them by the hand. "Be nice to me, will you? I
am simply pining for affection. My child is all to me, but he is still
so young; and I tell him too much as it is.... Heavens, what a life I
have had these last few years! No, you were not kind! Why did you never,
never once come to me, in Brussels?"

"But, Constance dear," said Gerrit, "if we had only known that you would
have liked us to! Remember, you never sent us a line. You only wrote to
Mamma; and she did go to see you once or twice. Own up: we had become
strangers."

"Let us be friends again, then! Be nice to me! Your dear little wife ...
I don't know her.... But you are my sister, too, Adeline, are you not?
Be a little fond of me."

"Yes, of course, Constance. And let us see a lot of each other."

"Tell me, Gerrit; what is Bertha like now?"

"Bertha is very nice. Bertha is an exemplary mother, an excellent wife.
Bertha has a busy life. They do a great deal of good, they live for
their children, they see heaps of people. They are in the upper ten, or,
rather, the upper two or three of the Hague. We are not, you know. And
we never go to their big dinners; we are not in their set at all."

"I don't even go to Bertha's at-homes," said Adeline.

"And yet we are very good friends. And Bertha is very nice; and, when
Adeline is expecting a baby, which is the usual state of affairs with
us, Bertha is just like a mother. But she and her husband live in their
own circle, which is very big and busy and important and smart and all
the rest of it."

"So Adolphine and Van Saetzema...?"

"Oh, you needn't ask: they don't go to their dinners, at-homes, balls,
etcetera, either. And that makes Adolphine furious. But we don't care in
the least."

"And Aunt and Uncle Ruyvenaer?"

"They go to the at-home days," laughed Adeline, "but not to the dinners.
And they have their own little Indian clique, which is very lively,