He was silent. It was evident that he did not care to discuss his private affairs with Mlle. Fouchette.
The girl was quick to see this and changed the conversation to politics. But Jean had no mind for this either. He began to grow impatient, when she opened a box on the mantel and showed him an assortment of pipes.
"Oho! You keep a petit tabac?"
"One has some friends, monsieur."
"A good many, I should judge,—each of whom leaves a pipe, indicating an early and regular return."
"I don't find yours here yet, monsieur," she replied, demurely.
"But you will," said he. "And I'll come up and smoke it occasionally, if you'll let me."
"With pleasure, monsieur, even if you had not saved my life——"
"There! Stop that, now. Let us never speak of that, mademoiselle. You got me into a scrape and got me out again, so we are quits."
"But——"