Philip.
And the Pré-Catelan——!
Ottoline.
And we'll make pilgrimages, Phil——!
Philip.
Yes, we'll gaze up at the windows of my gloomy lodgings in the Rue Soufflot—what was the number?——
Ottoline.
[Contracting her brows.] Quarante-trois bis.
Philip.
[Banteringly.] Where you honoured me with a visit, madame, with your maid Nanette——