Mijnheer and Mevrouw Van Arlen were silent for a little.
“We must not keep them shut up,” repeated the mother, thoughtfully. “Do you think it possible you might some time be transferred, Van Arlen?”
“Oh, Hortense! don’t ask such questions.”
“It is not out of curiosity, but in the interest of our family. You are in such favourable relations with people in high positions.”
“What do you think is the cause of this, mamma?”
“Well, your knowledge, your ability, your great——”
“Do you think that a man possessing such qualities—mind I don’t say I possess them—has much chance of being sent away to a distance?”
“No, but—it is hard.”
“It may be hard,—but when a man is indispensable—I don’t say that I am indispensable—he has to put up with it. The feeling that he is doing his duty conscientiously to the State, ought to have most weight with him,—and it certainly makes things easier.”
Van Arlen finished his tea, and handed the empty cup to his wife—the usual sign that the audience was over.