"Oh, I haven't seen much of them yet, but I'm going to Uncle Gerrit and Aunt Adeline's on Thursday."
"How many children have they?"
"Seven."
"By Jove! Is Mamma well, Constance?"
"Yes, very well."
"I've ... I've had a letter from Papa," he stammered. "They want us to come and see them soon at Driebergen...."
He was at last bringing her the long-expected reconciliation. She looked at him without a word.
"Here's the letter!" he said, handing it to her.
She read the letter. It was couched in the groping words of an old and old-fashioned man, who wrote seldom; an attempt at forgiving, at forgetting, at welcoming: laboured, but not insincere. The letter ended by saying that Henri's parents hoped soon to see him and Constance and Addie at Driebergen.
Her heart beat: