Page:Later Life (1919).djvu/121

Rh to him? He talks so nicely: time seems to fly when Uncle's talking. . . Tell me, Auntie, Brauws: is Brauws really a gentleman? He has been a workman."

"Yes, but that was because he wanted to."

"I don't understand those queer men, do you? No, you don't either, you can't understand such a queer man any more than I can. Just imagine . . . Uncle Henri as a labouring man! Can you imagine it? No, no, not possibly! He speaks well, Brauws; and I raved about Peace for a whole evening . . ."

"And since?"

"No. I don't rave over things long. Raving isn't the same as feeling. When I really feel . . ."

"Well?"

"Then—I think—it is for always. For always."

"But, Marianne, darling, you mustn't be so sentimental! . . ."

"Well, what about you? You're crying again . . ."

"No, Marianne."

"Yes, you're crying. Let's cry together, Auntie. I feel as if I want to cry with you; I'm in that sort of mood, I don't know why. There, see, I am crying! . . ."

She knelt down by Constance; and her tears really came.