"I think Gerrit a most companionable brother," said Constance, one evening, while Paul sat taking tea with her.
"Yes, he's a good sort, but he's queer."
"But why queer, Paul? You're always saying that and I have never taken any notice of it. Why is Gerrit queerer than Ernst or yourself?"
"Well, Ernst isn't normal either and I ... only just."
"But Gerrit, surely, is normal!"
"Perhaps. Perhaps he is. But sometimes I fancy he's not."
"But what does he do, what is there about him that's strange?" asked Constance, indignantly, like a true Van Lowe, defending her brother as soon as that brother was attacked.
"Gerrit has been married nine years. Formerly, he was a very lugubrious gentleman."
"Gerrit lugubrious!" Constance laughed heartily. "My dear Paul, your knowledge of human nature is deserting you. Gerrit, a healthy fellow, strong as a horse, an excellent officer, a jolly brother, a first-rate father with all his fair-haired little children: Gerrit lugubrious! Where do you get that idea from? Oh, Paul, sometimes, from sheer love of paradox, you say such very improbable things!"
"You did not know Gerrit as he was, Constance."