"With a girl he likes better than you? What a question! All men do that, you silly goose!"

"He said it was his sister. Bah! I know better, Fouchette. Her name's Remy,—yes, Mademoiselle Remy. And a little, skinny, tow-headed thing like—oh! no, no, no! Fouchette, pardon me! I didn't mean that! I'm half crazy!"

"I believe you," said Fouchette.

"Yes, Monsieur Marot told me——"

Mlle. Fouchette had started so perceptibly that the speaker stopped. Mlle. Fouchette had carefully guarded her own secrets, but this sudden surprise was——

"Well, melon!" she snapped.

"I—why, I didn't know you——"

"What did Monsieur Marot tell you?" demanded the other.

"That her name was Remy."

"Oh!" said Mlle. Fouchette, coldly.