He would be ashamed, absolute ashamed....
Or to say:
"Doctor, a gin-and-bitters upsets me."
"Well, captain," the doctor would say, "then you'd better not take a gin-and-bitters."
What was the use of going to a doctor, or even a specialist? He would not do it, he would not.... The best thing was to be abstemious, certainly not take any drinks ... and then grapple with that damned sensation—come, he wasn't a girl!—and not think about it, just stop thinking about it.... He must have a little distraction: he was leading such a lonely life these days. And, in that loneliness, without his wife and children, he began to think, with that incurable sentimentality which lay hidden deep down in him, of the comfort it was to belong to a large family, of the way it cheered you up.... Theirs had been a big family: but how it was scattering now! Bertha's little tribe had all broken up.... The others Mamma still kept together; and that Sunday evening was a capital institution of Mamma's.... And so he would look in on Karel and Cateau towards dinner-time, hoping that they would ask him to stay and that for once he would not have to dine with the other fellows at the mess; but they did not ask him and, when it was nearly six, Gerrit, feeling almost uncomfortable, heaved his big body out of his chair and went and joined the others, reflecting that Karel and Cateau had little by little become utter strangers.... And, though he was not awfully keen on Adolphine, he sank his pride, invited himself to her house and stayed on for the whole evening; and he had to confess to himself that, upon his word, Adolphine was at her best in her own house and that the evening had not been so bad. Constance was at Baarn one day, at Nunspeet another; Van der Welcke was abroad; but Aunt Ruyvenaer was at the Hague—Uncle had gone to India—and Aunt Lot was always jolly:
"Yes, Herrit.... You showed a ghood nose to come here.... We're having nassi[6].... You'll stay and lhunch, take pot lhuck, eh, Herrit, what?"
He accepted gratefully, felt a sudden radiant glow inside him, just where loneliness gave him a feeling of icy cold. Yes, he would stay to lunch: he loved the East-Indian "rice-table," the way Aunt and Toetie made it; and he was secretly glad that Uncle was away, for he didn't like Uncle. In Aunt Lot's big, roomy house there was a sort of genial warmth that gave him a delicious sensation and almost left him weak, as though a smell of Java pervaded everything around, reminding him of his childhood. The house was full of Japanese porcelain; there were stuffed birds of paradise; under a big square glass cover was a whole passer,[7] with tiny dolls as toys: little warongs,[8] little herds of cattle; there were Malay weapons on the walls; in Aunt's conservatory there were mats on the floor, as in Java; and Gerrit thought it fun to tease Alima, though she was dressed as a European, and he was only sorry that she was not latta,[9] because that reminded him of the latta servants whom he used to tease, in Java, as a child:
"Boeang, baboe; baboe, boeang!"[10]
And from the Japanese porcelain and the birds of paradise and the passer there came that same smell, the smell that pervaded the whole house, a smell of akar-wangi[11] and sandalwood; and, while Aunt was making "rice-table" and Alima running from the store-room to the kitchen with a basket full of bottles of Indian spices, Gerrit felt his mouth water:
"Aunt, we're going to have a great tuck-in!"