“Do I give you that impression?” I answered. “How can you look at me and ask?”
Still she conned me with unwinking eyes.
“Used you to go to the cabarets artistiques—Les Noctambules, and de l’Enfer, and the Moulin Rouge, and all those?”
“Not all; but to some, and to some better, in my time. There was the Chat-Noir for instance, to whose collection I had the honour of contributing a trifle of statuary.”
“And to the Elysée Montmartre?”
“O, now and again!”
“To the Bal des Quat’z Arts there?”
I fairly gasped.
“How on earth,” I said, “did you come to hear of all these places?”
She nodded her head once or twice.