“We’ll fix it up,” said Ken. “Good night.” They shook hands and Monsieur Robert bent to kiss Andree’s hand, bent gracefully, with a charming air that was half joking, half serious. It set upon him well. “Good night,” he said, and hastened toward the theater.
“I like him,” said Kendall.
Andree looked at him quickly, her face expressionless. “Yes?” she said.
“Don’t you?”
“How can I say? I do not know him.... He is ver’ handsome.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you like him or not—so long as he gets you into that Conservatoire thing.”
She did not reply.
They walked the best part of a block before she spoke. “It is ver’ nécessaire for me to enter into the Conservatoire.... Oh, ver’ nécessaire.... I mus’ earn money. I have no money. I mus’ earn it for myself, because there is no one to earn it for me.... You do not onderstan’.... Sometime, before the war, yo’ng girls say they do not need to earn money, because they marry. All will be wives and the husbands they will earn.... Now it ees not so—non—it ees differen’.... You onderstan’? Many, many yo’ng girl mus’ learn to earn money, and because they will always be alone.... There can be no one....”
“It does mean a lot to you, doesn’t it? I’ll be mighty happy if I can help.”
She was silent again for a time and then said, suddenly, as if thinking aloud, “I theenk I can enter into the Conservatoire if I want to....”