"Can you hire one? Can you hire one?" cried Van der Welcke, in delighted amazement. "And may I really drive?"
And forgetting all about Peace, he was soon eagerly discussing motor-cars and motor-cycles . . .
When they reached the Kerkhoflaan, Constance asked:
"Won't you all come in?"
Van Vreeswijck and Paul said that they would be glad to come and have a glass of wine; but Brauws said:
"Mevrouw, it's so late . . ."
"Not for us."
"Come along, Max," said Van der Welcke.
But Brauws laughed his queer, soft laugh and said:
"What's the good of my coming in? . . ."
And he went off, with a shy bow. They all laughed.
"Really, Brauws is impossible," said Van Vreeswijck, indignantly.
"And he's forgotten to tell me at what time he's coming for me with his old sewing-machine . . ."
But next day, very early, in the misty winter morning, the "machine" came puffing and snorting and exploding down the Kerkhoflaan and stopped at Van der Welcke's door with a succession of deep-drawn sighs and spasmodic gasps, as if to take breath after its exertions; and this monster as it were of living
