Gerdy, usually so cheerful, suddenly became very nervous, cross and angry, very limp; and she didn't understand herself, couldn't understand herself....
"Well, come and have a rubber."
"Yes, yes, I'm coming.... Don't hustle your uncle: he's getting old."
But Gerdy laughed, shrilly, though she had to keep back her tears:
"You'll never be old."
"You think that?"
"No, never."
"Ah! Then I shall remain a scapegrace to my dying day?"
"No, a dear, kind uncle.... But come and have a rubber now."
She dragged him into the room. Constance grumbled mildly: