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22 her watch, regretting that she had come down too early. She thought that it was six and that they would be having dinner at once. And it was not even half-past five yet. . . . Should she go upstairs again for a bit? . . . No, she was there now and she would stay. . . . She had slept too long that afternoon. . . . She felt heavy and angry. . . . What a place, what a place, Driebergen in November! Not a soul to talk to, except three or four antediluvian families. . . . When was she likely to see the Hague again? The children would be looked after all right: there were busy-bodies enough in the house for that! . . . And she remained sitting beside Emilie, without moving or speaking, weary, indifferent and heavy after her long sleep. . . . She knew it: as usual, her entrance had caused friction. That odious idiot child, pushing her chair away, with its "Go away!" She could have boxed its ears. . . . But she had controlled herself. Didn't she always control herself? Wasn't she always being insulted by her husband's relatives? . . . Why on earth had she married him? Couldn't she have married anybody, at the Hague? . . . In her weary, heavy indifference, mingled with spiteful rancour, she felt herself a martyr. . . . Wasn't she a very handsome woman? Couldn't she have married anybody, though her father was a penniless naval officer, though there was no money on her mother's side either? . . . She was a handsome girl; and, from the time when she was quite young, her one thought had been to make a good match, first and foremost a good match, and to get away from the poverty and the vulgar crew that gathered in Papa and Mamma's house. . . . Oh, yes, she was very fond of her husband; but now it was all his fault: he. . . he was neglecting her! . . . Wasn't she a martyr?