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Rh He went in, through the conservatory: the old woman was sitting there, staring quietly out of the window; Adeletje was busy with the plants.

"Well, Mummie, how are you? What do you say to this fine weather?"

"What?"

"What do you say, Mum, to this fine weather?"

The old lady nodded her head contentedly:

"Lovely, lovely," she said. "The wet monsoon is over. But tell Gertrude . . . to be careful . . . of the river . . . behind the Palace."

Her voice sounded like a voice from the past and spoke of things of the past.

"Where is Gerdy?" Van der Welcke asked Adeletje.

"In the drawing-room. Uncle Paul's in there, playing."

He heard the piano: Paul was improvising. Van der Welcke found Gerdy leaning over the back of her chair, very pale.

"I say, dear, come for a ride with me. It'll freshen you up."

She looked at him dejectedly, shook her head:

"I have a headache."

"That's just why you ought to come, dear. Come along, do . . . to please me."

He stroked her hair. She took his hand and put it to her lips.

"Come."

"Really, Uncle, my head's too bad."

"Then, why don't you go and sit in the garden? It's so hot in here."

"Aunt Constance is taking me for a drive presently; and Mary's coming with us."

"Paul, can't you ride a bicycle? There's one of Addie's which you could have."