"I'm not so sure!" growled Karel.
Unlike Bertha and Constance, Adolphine had not been presented at Court, because, after Constance' marriage Papa and Mamma van Lowe, feeling old and tired, had taken to living more quietly. She could never forgive them for it.
"No!" droned Cateau. "But then you are such a regular, good, Dutch wife and mo-ther, Adolph-ine. That's what I al-ways say to Ka-rel."
Adolphine looked flattered.
"Yes, but," said Karel, by way of excuse, "you mustn't look to Constance for what she has never been. She went straight to Rome after her first marriage."
"Those Court circles are always fast," Adolphine declared.
"And then, in Rome," cried Cateau, clasping her fat hands, "such things hap-pen!"
Adolphine rose: her visit was paid. She had a great deal more to talk about, among others the way in which Bertha had, so to speak, forced her daughter Emilie into her engagement with Van Raven; but it was growing late: she took her leave. Karel and Cateau went straight to the brougham:
"Oh, de-ar!" said Cateau, in a startled voice. "How wet the carriage has got!"
They drove to pay their visits. First, they drove to the Ruyvenaers: Karel rang; fortunately, Uncle and Aunt were out. Cards for Uncle and Aunt. Next—Cateau consulted her list—to Mrs. van Friesesteijn, an old friend of Mrs. van Lowe's. At home. A cantankerous, shrivelled little old lady, always alert for news: