It was Sunday evening, and Betsy decided to stay in for a change. It was so long since old Madame van Raat had been to see her, and so, rather than go to Scheveningen, which was less interesting on a Sunday anyway, she had instead invited her mother-in-law to visit. Tea would be taken in the green conservatory, where the glass doors already stood open. Henk took a turn about the garden with his mother, who professed admiration for his splendid long-stemmed roses. Betsy and Vincent sat alone. ‘I have had a letter from Eline; she is returning with the Van Erlevoorts next Wednesday. Apparently the Howards are staying on a little longer at De Horze,’ she said. ‘Oh? And when Eline returns I am to move out, I suppose?’ he responded bluntly. Betsy was taken aback, but smiled very sweetly. ‘The very idea! Certainly not. You know that our home is yours until you decide where you want to go. Have you heard anything from that friend of yours in New York, what’s his name again?’ ‘Lawrence St Clare.
