2
The door opened and Quaerts entered the room. As he bowed to Cecile, he had his air of shyness in still greater measure than before. To her this air was incomprehensible in him, who seemed so strong, so determined.
“I hope you will not think me indiscreet, mevrouw, in taking the liberty to come and call on you.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Quaerts,” she said, coldly. “Pray sit down.”
He took a chair and placed his tall hat on the floor beside him:
“I am not disturbing you, mevrouw?”
“Not in the least; I am expecting Mrs. van Attema and her daughters. You were so kind as to leave a card on me; but, as I dare say you know, I see nobody.”
“I knew that, mevrouw. Perhaps it is to that very reason that you owe the indiscretion of my visit.”
She looked at him coldly, politely, smilingly. There was a feeling of irritation in her. She felt inclined to ask him bluntly what he wanted with her.
“How so?” she asked, with her mannerly smile, which converted her face into a mask.