"No. I am saying things to you which I never talk about. And I say them feeling that it is no use saying them. And yet you're my sister, you know."
"Yes."
"I shall take you home now. I'm only dragging you through the mud and rain. The roads are soaked through. You'll be home in a minute or two."
He brought her home. She rang the bell. Truitje opened the door.
"Is Van der Welcke in, do you think?" Gerrit asked Constance.
"Yes, ma'am," Truitje answered, "the master's upstairs."
"I'll just go up and see him."
Gerrit ran up the stairs.
"I was forgetting, ma'am: there's a telegram come," said Truitje.
"A telegram? . . ."
She did not know what came over her, but she felt deadly afraid. The blood seemed to freeze round her heart. She took the telegram from Truitje, went into the drawing-room and closed the door before breaking it open. . . .
Gerrit had only run up to say a word to Van der Welcke: he had to go back home, for it was twelve o'clock and getting on for lunch-time. Van der Welcke saw him down the stairs.
"Well, good-bye, old chap," said Gerrit, genially,
