“No. I don’t rave over things long. Raving isn’t the same as feeling. When I really feel....”
“Well?”
“Then—I think—it is for always. For always.”
“But, Marianne, darling, you mustn’t be so sentimental!...”
“Well, what about you? You’re crying again....”
“No, Marianne.”
“Yes, you’re crying. Let’s cry together, Auntie. I feel as if I want to cry with you; I’m in that sort of mood, I don’t know why. There, see, I am crying!...”
She knelt down by Constance; and her tears really came.
“Dear, you mustn’t excite yourself like that. Some one is coming; I hear Uncle....”
The girl recovered herself quickly as Van der Welcke entered the room. He stood for a moment in the doorway, smiling his gay, boyish smile, his blue eyes glowing with happiness. She looked at him for a second.