“Then smile.”
“When I have climb’ many stairs I cannot smile.... But I am glad.... Who is here?”
“Nobody.”
“Not Arlette?”
“Oh yes, of course. But Bert won’t be home to dinner.”
“It is well.... Non, non, you mus’ not take my sac. It is ver’ valuable—yes. I mus’ watch it ver’ careful. It has my tickets of the bread.”
“I’ll hang it right here, and your jacket, or whatever you call it.... What have you been doing?”
“I have work beaucoup. Oh, it is ver’ tiresome to work! It is much better jus’ to play all the days.... And you? Have you theenk of me?”
“Yes.”
“I do not believe—no, no, not once have you theenk of me. You are ver’ wicked—très-méchante. I shall to weep.”