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326 The sick man sank away, sank away in the downy abyss. . ..

Gerrit made progress every day. He was now so much better that he had walked across the room, on Constance' arm, and just seen his two boys, only for a moment, because he longed for them so:

"The others too," he said.

The next day they brought Marietje and Gerdy and Constant to him; the day after that, the four others. . . . He had now seen them all:

"But for such a short time!" he said.

He recovered slowly. He had seen Van der Welcke and Addie; and, one pale, wintry, sunny day, he had been out for a little while, but the outside world made him giddy. Still he couldn't deny it: he was getting better. He saw his mother; and, when she saw him, she forgot that he had been ill:

"Where have you been, Gerrit? . . ."

"Laid up, Mamma."

"Laid up? . . ." The old woman nodded wisely. "You haven't been ill, have you?"

"Just a little, Mamma. It wasn't very bad. . . ."

And he got better, he made progress. He went out walking, with his wife, with Constance, with