"What makes you say that?"
"I thought she looked pale ... and rather sad."
Constance passed her hand over her forehead:
"Oh, Marianne," she said, "I wish that I could talk it all away, think it all away!... But I can't.... I'm frightened, I keep on being frightened...."
And she sobbed gently on Marianne's shoulder, while the younger woman knelt beside her.
The rain fell in vertical streaks. The carriage took Marianne and her children to the station through a deluge.
CHAPTER XVII
Since that first time, Mathilde was pricked with continual jealousy; and in the mornings, when Addie went upstairs to Marietje van Saetzema's room, she always followed him and stole into the wardrobe-closet next door, always with her keys in her hand, so that, if she happened to be caught, she might appear to be looking for some article of dress in one of the presses. She listened at the partition and understood what they were saying sometimes but not always, because Marietje spoke very low and Mathilde could not always hear what she answered. But, as her eyes glanced mechanically along the big flowers that formed the pattern of the wall-paper, she suddenly noticed a broad crevice, where the wood had split and the paper cracked and torn; and, with her heart leaping to her throat, she peeped and peeped.... She had to squeeze between two cupboards, she banged her head against the partition and was terrified lest they had heard; but they heard nothing or else the noise did not strike them, for the sound of their voices went on.... Mathilde now put her eye to the crevice and was able, though with difficulty, to see into the room, saw Marietje sitting with Addie sitting beside her, saw her hand resting in his:
"Why does he hold her hand so long?" she thought. "Need he feel her pulse as long as that?"