with his son, instead of staying in his
little smoking-room:

"Addie, my fire's gone out. Shall I be disturbing you if I come and sit
in here?"

"No, Papa."

Or else:

"Addie, that wretched wind is blowing right against my window and
there's a frightful draught in my room."

"Then come and sit in here, Papa."

The boy was never taken in, but remained very serious and went on
working. And Van der Welcke settled himself quietly in the easy-chair,
the only one in the room, with a book and a cigarette, and smoked and
looked at his son. The boy, one-ideaed and persevering, worked on....

"He's an industrious little beggar," thought Van der Welcke; and he
hardly dared move for fear of disturbing Addie. "He'll get through, this
summer, though he was a bit behindhand.... One couldn't go on as we were
doing at Brussels, with that outside tutor. It's just as well the boy
came to Holland. He'll get through, he'll get through.... Four years at
the grammar-school and then Leiden. And then he must enter the service.
It's lucky that Constance doesn't object. But will he himself consent? I
should like to see my son make his way in the career which I ... Oh, it
was a damned business, a damned business!... However, without Constance
I should not have had Addie, my boy. And Papa too would like to see him
go in for diplomacy. Papa was pleased with him too: I could see that. He
will have money later; Papa and Mamma are still hale and hearty, but he
will have money one of these days.... Just look at the boy working! And
he is so serious, poor little beggar, owing to this confounded life at
home.... Still, he's fond of us.... Look at him working. I never worked
like that. He gets it from his grandfather; that seriousness also. He
makes straight for his object. I was always more superficial, younger
too. The poor kid doesn't know what it means to be young. He will never
be young, never go off his head. Perhaps, though--who knows?--later, at
Leiden, perhaps he will be really lively, really go off his head. I wish
it him with all my heart, my boy, my little chap.... I wonder what he
thinks of his parents? He knows that his mother married before she
married his father; but what does he know besides? What does he think?
Does he judge us yet, that boy of mine? Will he condemn us later on? Oh,
my boy, my boy, never throw up your life for a woman!... But it was a
matter of honour, my father wished it.... Oh, Addie, may it never happen
to yo