“Oh, Taco, do stay a little longer!” begged Jules, enraptured to see him and lamenting that he had chosen just this moment to leave.
“Jules, Jules!” cried Amélie, thinking it was the proper thing to do.
Jules pressed Quaerts, took his two hands, forced him, like a spoilt child. Quaerts only laughed. Jules in his excitement knocked a book or two off the table.
“Jules, be quiet, do!” cried Amélie.
Quaerts picked up the books, while Jules persisted in his bad behaviour. As Quaerts replaced the last book, he hesitated a moment; he held it in his hand, looked at the gold lettering: “Emerson.”
“If he thinks I’m going to lend it him, he’s mistaken,” she thought.
But Quaerts asked nothing: he had released himself from Jules and said good-bye. With a quip at Jules he left.