“What is it?”
“Come to supper with a friend of mine, with me.”
“Oh, no—I am not in a festive humour.”
“Bah! They will talk nothing but nonsense, and that will amuse you.”
“Well—but I am not invited!”
“You mistake—for you are.”
“It is very kind on your part—but ’pon my word I am not worthy of—”
Just then we crossed D——. He seemed very much engaged with his bouquet of myosotis. Nevertheless he saw me.
“Well,” he said, “is it settled? Three o’clock.”
“Less settled than ever,” I replied—“I cannot join you.”