“You are still devoted to him?”
“Crazy, my dear! I will see you to-morrow. Good-bye, Armand.”
Mme. Duvernoy went out.
Marguerite opened the drawer of a side-table and threw the bank-notes into it.
“Will you permit me to get into bed?” she said with a smile, as she moved toward the bed.
“Not only permit, but I beg of you.”
She turned back the covering and got into bed.
“Now,” said she, “come and sit down by me, and let’s have a talk.”
Prudence was right: the answer that she had brought to Marguerite had put her into a good humour.
“Will you forgive me for my bad temper tonight?” she said, taking my hand.