“Agreed,” she cried. “I have finished rehearsing. I have a week’s ‘vacance.’ We will go to Paris to-morrow, all four of us!”
“I’m on,” Davenant declared promptly. “I was going anyway in a week or two.”
Mademoiselle Rosine clapped her hands again.
“Bravo!” she cried. “And you, Mademoiselle?”
The girl hesitated. She glanced at Macheson.
“We will both come,” Macheson declared. “Miss Merriam will do me the honour to go as my guest.”
“We’ll stay at the Vivandiére,” Davenant said. “I’ve a pal there who knows the ropes right up to date. What about the two-twenty to-morrow? We shall get there in time to change and have supper at Noyeau’s.”
“And afterwards—au Rat Mort——” Mademoiselle Rosine cried. “We will drink a glass of champagne with cher Monsieur François.”
Davenant raised his glass.