She was sitting at the bridge-table with Aunt Ruyvenaer, Toetie and Eduard van Raven and looked over her ample bust at each card as she played it, very carefully, putting it down with her fat, stumpy fingers, the incarnation of unctuous caution.
“To-night?” asked Eduard.
“Oh, so oft-en: such a frump!” declared Cateau, emphatically. “So dowd-y!”
“She’s your husband’s sister, after all,” said Aunt Ruyvenaer, quietly.
“Yes, Aunt-ie, I know.... But Ka-rel is al-ways a gen-tleman!”
“And Aunt Adolphine never,” replied Van Raven, to provoke her.
There was no love lost between aunt and nephew; and Cateau said, meekly:
“Well, I’m not say-ing it to say any-thing un-kind about Adolph-ine.... But, Van Ra-ven, how ill Emilie-tje’s looking: so tired! Are you two all right to-gether?”
“Say, half right,” said Van Raven, echoing her emphasis.
Toetie tittered behind her cards; and Auntie said: