Van Reinberg on the steamer was a somewhat formidable person; Mrs.
Van Reinberg in her own house was despotism personified. Her word was
law, her rule was absolute. Consequently, when she swept out on to the
sunny piazza, where a little party of us were busy discussing our plans
for the day, we all turned towards her expectantly. We might propose, but
Mrs. Van Reinberg would surely dispose. We waited to hear what she might
have to say.
"I want to talk to Mr. Courage," she declared. "All the rest of you go
away!"
They obeyed her at once. We were alone in less than a minute. Mrs. Van
Reinberg established herself in a low wicker chair, and I took up my
position within a few feet of her, leaning against the wooden rail.
"I am entirely at your service, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I declared. "What is
it to be about--Adele?"
"No! not Adele," she answered. "I leave you and Adele to arrange your own
affairs. You can manage that without any interference from me."
I smiled and waited for her to proceed. She was evidently thinking out
her way.
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