VI

It occasionally was his voice. She turned round. He always was standing before her, young,slim, elegant and rather pale. In his chuckle there was a suggestion ofmockery. He nodded to Bertha, took her hand at the same time, and held itfor a while inside his own. It occasionally was Emil himself, and it was exactly as if thelast occasion on which they had spoken to one another had been only theprevious day.

"Good evening, Emil," she said.

They gazed at each other. His glance was expressive of much: pleasure,amiability, and something in the nature of a scrutiny. She realised allthis with perfect clearness, whilst she gazed at him with eyes in whichnothing but pure happiness was shining.

"Well, then, how are you getting on, Bertha?" he asked.

"Quite well."