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2 staircase and carefully picked the tram-tickets off the stair-carpet.

Dorine walked into her brother’s study. Karel van Lowe was sitting placidly by a good fire, reading; his smooth-shaven face shone pink and young. He wore his thick, glossy hair neatly combed and brushed into a fine tuft; he dyed his moustache black; and, like Dorine, he had the black eyes of the Van Lowes. His broad figure looked comfortable and well-fed in his spruce clothes; his waistcoat lay in thick creases over his stomach; and his watch-chain rose and fell with his regular breathing. He seemed calm and healthy, full of calculating prudence and quiet selfishness. He gently put aside the magazine which he was reading, as though he felt that he was in for it, that he would have to listen to his sister for a quarter of an hour at least; but he made up his mind to interrupt her pretty often. So he rubbed his large, fat, pink hands and looked at Dorine impassively; and his glance seemed to convey:

“Go on, I’m listening, I can’t help myself. . . .”

Dorine stood near his writing-table, which was in the middle of the prim room, while he remained sitting by the fire.

“I’ve been to all of them!” Dorine began triumphantly.

“To Bertha?”

“To Bertha.”

“To Gerrit?”

“To Gerrit.”

“To Adolphine?”