“You are fortunate,” she said, “in being able to get away from Paris in this fine weather.”
I looked at Prudence, asking myself whether she was laughing at me, but her face was quite serious.
“Shall you go and say good-bye to Marguerite?” she continued, as seriously as before.
“No.”
“You are quite right.”
“You think so?”
“Naturally. Since you have broken with her, why should you see her again?”
“You know it is broken off?”
“She showed me your letter.”
“What did she say about it?”