“For the rest,” continued Prudence, “I never saw her as she is now; she hardly takes any sleep, she goes to all the balls, she goes to suppers, she even drinks. The other day, after a supper, she had to stay in bed for a week; and when the doctor let her get up, she began again at the risk of her life. Shall you go and see her?”
“What is the good? I came to see you, because you have always been charming to me, and I knew you before I ever knew Marguerite. I owe it to you that I have been her lover, and also, don’t I, that I am her lover no longer?”
“Well, I did all I could to get her away from you, and I believe you will be thankful to me later on.”
“I owe you a double gratitude,” I added, rising, for I was disgusted with the woman, seeing her take every word I said to her as if it were serious.
“You are going?”
“Yes.”
I had learned enough.
“When shall I be seeing you?”
“Soon. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”