“Well, Marianne ... I haven’t seen you for ever so long....”
“Yes, you’re always in that old car with Brauws.... And I’ve been an absolute butterfly. Only think, at the Court ball, the other night, just as the Queen entered the ball-room....”
She sat down and told her little budget of news in a voice that seemed to come from far away. The dusk crept in and shadowed the room, obliterating their outlines and the expression of their faces.
Chapter XV
“Isn’t she coming?” asked Adolphine, with a sidelong glance at the door.
It was Sunday evening, at Mamma van Lowe’s, and it was after half-past nine. It had been like that every Sunday evening since Constance returned from Nice: the sidelong, almost anxious look towards the door; the almost anxious question:
“Is she coming?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if she did to-night,” said Floortje. “If so, she’s coming late, so as not to stay long.”
Mother and daughter were sitting at the bridge-table with Uncle Ruyvenaer and Jaap; and the cards fell slackly one upon the other, uninterestingly, with a dull flop; and Floortje gathered in the tricks mechanically, silently and greedily.