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Rh him in their scenes, almost with enjoyment, revelling in her revenge, because he, not long ago, had reproached her that it was her fault, her fault that they were buried away there, "cursing their luck in the Kerkhoflaan." And he was sorry too because of Marianne: she used to come and dine once in a way; when Van Vreeswijck was coming, Constance would ask either Paul or Marianne, to make four; and, now that he had insulted her father, she wouldn't come again, they were on unfriendly terms not only with the parents, but also with the daughter. . . and with the sons, to the great regret of Addie, who was very fond of Frans and Henri. . . His fault! His fault! Perhaps it was his fault, but he couldn't always restrain himself, control himself, master himself. Possibly, if he had stuck to his career, he would have learnt to do it, after his training in diplomatic reserve. . . or else he would always have remained an indifferent diplomatist. That might have happened too; it was quite possible! . . . Yes, he was sorry. . . because of Marianne. She was a nice girl, so natural, so unaffected, in spite of her worldly environment; and he liked her eyes, her voice. He was sorry. . . because of Marianne; but it couldn't be helped: although he had written to her father, she would not come to the house again, she would never come again, he thought.

And he almost sighed, sadly, he did not know