“Oh.”
He looked at her with an air of remonstrance.
“This is not your parlor,” he reminded her.
“No,” she said meekly; “I stand corrected.”
He lit the cigarette and threw the match into a rose-bush.
“I think that I will go and find Molly,” she suggested presently.
“Why?”
“I think that she would be able to leave madame by this time.”
“But if she can leave her then she will come to us, and I do not want her; do you?”
“I always want her.”