She was angry, offended:
“The first day that I’m home!...” she began.
He kissed her, with a shower of tiny little kisses, tried to appease her wrath:
“I promised!” he said. “We don’t go cycling together often. You will have me to yourself all the evening. Be sensible now and nice; and don’t be so cross.”
She tried to be reasonable, but it cost her an effort. She went alone to Mrs. van Lowe’s. She saw two umbrellas in the hall:
“Who is with mevrouw?” she asked the maid.
“Mrs. van Naghel and Mrs. van Saetzema.”
She hesitated. She had not seen her sisters since that awful Sunday-evening. She had gone abroad five days after. But she wanted to show them....
She went upstairs. Her step was no longer as timid as when she climbed those stairs ten months ago, when she first came back among them all. She did not wish to seem arrogant, but also she did not wish to be too humble. She entered with a smile:
“Mamma!” she cried, gaily, kissing her mother.