"No, Father."
"What you've got to do now is to try and be happy among us all . . . to work . . . to pick up your work again, you know."
"Yes, just so."
"And then, gradually, to let things come . . . as you say. . . . Would it upset you very much if she and Erzeele . . ."
"Yes. Because I should then feel my shortcomings towards her still more strongly. . . . And also because of my children."
"Perhaps things will come right, later, my boy."
"Perhaps."
"Take it all calmly now . . . and don't worry. And just do your work here quietly."
"Yes, Father. . . . Oh, I feel that you are my father!"
"Perhaps for the first time! . . . A different part for your old ruffian of a father!"
"You're not an old ruffian, you're . . ."
Addie stood up and embraced his father.
"Don't squeeze the breath out of my body!" said Van der Welcke. "You're strong enough still. And you're looking well too. Your eyes look interested again, even though they're a bit too pensive. And they were always calm. . . . Did you have an interesting time abroad?"
"I saw a great deal of misery . . . but also a great deal of good-will. . . ."
"That's it: do what you can here, just simply, in your own surroundings. Oh, my dear chap, how glad I am that you're back!"
Gerdy looked in at the door:
"May we never come in? . . . Uncle Henri, you're being selfish about Addie! . . ."
"You may come in, dear."
Addie took her hands:
