"I've sent off the fifty pounds for all that!" she said, from behind the open door.
And she was gone.
He shook his head:
"I am sorry for her!" he thought, analysing his emotions. "And ... for myself! Even more for myself. We poor, poor creatures! We ought all to be placed under restraint ... but whose? Come, the best thing is to get to work and to keep working, strenuously, always...."
[CHAPTER IX]
Old Takma was just coming from the razor-back bridge by the barracks, stiff and erect in his tightly-buttoned overcoat, considering each step and leaning on his ivory-knobbed stick, when Ottilie Steyn de Weert, arriving from the other side, saw him and went up to him:
"How do you do, Mr. Takma?"
"Ah, Ottilie, how do you do?... Are you going to Mamma's too?"
"Yes...."