"Ottilie is nice, but hot-tempered," said the old gentleman, sunk in thought: he seemed to be thinking of other things, of more important things especially.
"If I do, it will be for Mamma's sake, Grandad, because she is so much attached to Lot. I would rather have my own little house. But we shall travel a good deal in any case. Lot says that he can travel cheaply."
"You might be able to do it, child, with a little tact: live with the Steyns, I mean. Ottilie is certainly very much alone, poor thing. Who knows? Perhaps you would supply a little affection, a little sympathy...."
His airy voice became softer, fuller, sounded more earnest.
"We shall see, Grandpapa. Will you stay upstairs, or are you coming down to lunch?"
"No, send me something up here. I've not much appetite, I've no appetite...."
His voice sounded airy again, like the whisper of a breeze.
"It's windy weather; and I think it's going to rain. Are you going out all the same, this afternoon?"
"For a moment, I think.... To Mrs. Dercksz' ..."
"To Grandmamma's...."