"The danger to your domestic happiness."
She gave a violent start:
"What do you mean?"
"She's in love with Hans."
"Hush!" she whispered, trembling, and laid her hand on his hand. "Hush!"
"She is in love with Hans."
"How do you know?"
"I see it . . . It radiates from their whole being . . ."
They both of them looked at Van der Welcke and Marianne. The two were whispering together with a glance and a smile, half-hidden behind a fan, while Paul, Gerrit and Van Vreeswijck were in the midst of an eager discussion and Addie gallantly entertaining Aunt Adeline, who was smiling gently.
"Please hush!" Constance entreated again, very pale. "I know she's in love with him."
"You know it?"
"Yes."
"Has she told you?"
"No. But I see it radiating out of her, as you see it. But she is no danger . . . to my domestic happiness. That happiness lies in my son, not in my husband."
"I like Hans," he said, almost reproachfully. "I have always liked him, perhaps just because he was always a child—and I already a man—when we were boys. He is still a child. He also . . . loves
