"Why," I explained, "I was supposed to study it at college. I still remember my 'j'ai, tu a, il a.'"
"You'll remember more when you get to Etretat," she laughed. "You'll have to, or starve."
"Oh, I also know the phrase made immortal by Mark Twain."
"'Avez-vous du vin?'—yes."
"And I think I also have a hazy recollection of the French equivalents for bread and butter and cheese and meat. We shan't starve—besides, I think Mr. Royce can help. He's been to France."
"Of course—and here he comes to claim his chair."
"I won't permit him to claim it if you'll use it a little longer," I protested.
"Oh, but I must be going," and she arose, laughing. "Have I been a satisfactory entertainer?"
"More than satisfactory; I'll accept no other."
"But you won't need any at all, after this morning—I don't really believe you're ill now!"