"Now I'll go upstairs."
She pushed past Roelofsz' stiff leg in the passage and forced her way to the stairs between Daan and Aunt Floor; and, in her nervous hurry, afraid of Ina, of sinfulness, of curiosity, afraid of Hell, she almost stumbled over the cat, which slipped just between her feet.
"I thought I should find you here, Roelofsz," said Uncle Daan. "If I hadn't, I should have looked you up at once."
"Aha, aha, well-well-well, so you're back once more, Dercksz!" said the old doctor.
They shook hands; and Daan Dercksz nervously looked at Dr. Roelofsz, as if he wanted to say something. But he wavered and merely remarked, hesitatingly, to Ina:
"Aren't you going upstairs, Ina?"
"No, Uncle," answered Ina, with apparent politeness, glad to have a word with Dr. Roelofsz. "You go first. Honestly, you go first. I can easily wait a little longer. I'll wait down here."
Dr. Roelofsz joined her in the morning-room, rubbing his cold hands, saying that it was warmer here than upstairs, where they only kept up a small fire: old Takma was never cold; he was always blazing hot inside. But Aunt Floor, who also came into the morning-room for a minute, puffed and put off her heavy fur cloak, Ina helping her:
"A handsome cloak, Aunt."
"Oh, I don't know, child!" said Aunt Floor, disparagingly. "Just an old fur. Had it thr-r-ree year-r-rs. But useful in Gholland: nice and war-r-r-m!"