“For God’s sake, Van der Welcke!” cried Paul, terrified. “Don’t always fly out like that. Do remember . . .”
“Annoyed!” foamed Van der Welcke. “Annoyed!”
“Henri, please!” cried Constance. “I thank you for resenting the insult offered to your wife. But restrain yourself: he’ll be here in a minute. Restrain yourself, for Addie’s sake. . . .”
“Restrain myself! Restrain myself!” shouted Van der Welcke, like a madman.
The door opened. Van Naghel and Bertha entered.
“Do you want to speak to me, Constance?” asked Van Naghel.
“I should very much like to speak to you for a moment, Van Naghel,” said Constance, while Paul made signs to Van der Welcke as though begging him to control himself. “Bertha tells me that you are sorry that I called at your house on Tuesday, on her reception-day.”
“Constance,” Van Naghel began, cautiously, trying to be diplomatic, “I . . .”
“Forgive me for interrupting you, Van Naghel. I ask you kindly, let me finish and say what I have to say. It is simply this: I regret that I went to your house, on Bertha’s at-home day, without first asking if I should be welcome. I admit, it was a mistake. I oughtn’t to have done it. I ought first to have spoken to the two of you as I am glad to be speaking to you now, Van Naghel, to explain my po-
