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Rh “What a nui-sance,” thought Cateau. “Now the carriage will ab-solute-ly have to wait.”

It was raining; and this meant that the brougham would get wet. The horse was jobbed; the coachman did not count: he was only a man.

“Ah, Adolph-ine! This is nice of you. . . .”

“I see your carriage is at the door. . . . Are you going out?”

“Yes, pres-ently, to pay a visit. . . or two. . . .”

“So am I. But don’t let me keep you. I am going to Constance this afternoon.”

“So are we.”

“Oh, are you? I would really rather have waited till she had called on me.”

“Oh,” said Cateau, “it looks as if we weren’t friend-ly, to cal-culate it so close-ly, don’t you think, Adolph-ine? But do sit down, Adolph-ine.”

Adolphine sat down, for she was paying Karel and Cateau a visit; and, if she had not sat down, the visit would not have been paid, would not have counted as a visit. Perhaps that was also the reason why Karel and Cateau urged Adolphine to sit down: otherwise, she would have been obliged to come back another day.

They all sat down: the brother, the sister, the sister-in-law. Outside, the rain was pouring in torrents; and already the brougham was glistening with the wet: Cateau’s saucer-eyes watched every drop through the curtains. The usual drawing-room talk began:

“What terrible wea-ther, isn’t it, Adolph-ine?”