"Yes, that is true," said Koosje, passing the back of her hand across
her trembling lips. She could not shed tears over her trouble; her eyes
were dry and burning, as if anger had scorched the blessed drops up ere
they should fall. She went on washing up the cups and saucers, or at
least _the_ cup and saucer, and other articles the professor had used
for his tea; and after a few minutes' silence he spoke again.

"What are you going to do? Punish her, or turn her out, or what?"

"I shall let him--_marry_ her," replied Koosje, with a portentous nod.

The old gentleman couldn't help laughing. "You think he will pay off
your old scores?"

"Before long," answered Koosje, grimly, "she will find him out--as I
have done."

Then, having finished washing the tea-things, which the professor had
shuddered to behold in her angry hands, she whirled herself out of the
room and left him alone.

"Oh, these women--these women!" he cried, in confidence, to the pictures
and skeletons. "What a worry they are! An old bachelor has the best of
it in the main, I do believe. But oh, Jan van der Welde, what a donkey
you must be to get yourself mixed up in such a broil! and yet--ah!"

The fossilised old gentleman broke off with a sigh as he recalled the
memory of a certain dead-and-gone romance which had happened--goodness
only knows how many years before--when he, like Jan van der Welde, would