“Otto ... Adrien de Luce is asking me to put in a word with you for him.... He is asking ... for Doddie’s hand....”
They all three remained motionless, all three under the influence of these words, of this thought which had come ... whence Léonie herself did not know. For, sitting rigid and erect as a sibyl and still with that gentle pressure on Addie’s head, she repeated:
“He is asking ... for Doddie’s hand....”
She was still the only one to speak. And she continued:
“He knows that you have certain objections. He knows that you do not care for his family ... because they have Javanese blood in their arteries.”
She was still speaking as though some one else were speaking inside her; and she had to smile at that word arteries, she did not know why: perhaps because it was the first time in her life that she had used the word arteries, for veins, in conversation.
“But,” she went on, “there are no financial drawbacks, if Doddie likes to live at Patjaram.... And the children have been fond of each other ... so long.”
“Doddie has so long been overstrung, almost ill.... It would be a crime, Otto, not to consent.”
Gradually her voice became more musical and the smile formed about her lips; but the light in her eyes was still hard as steel, as though she were threatening Van Oudijck with her anger if he refused to believe her.