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Suzette opened the door and came in just as I finished dressing—Burton left the room.—She was pouting.
"So the book is not completed, Nicholas?—and the English Mees comes three times a week—hein?"
"Yes—does that upset you?"
"I should say!"
"May I not have a secretary?—You will be objecting to my Aunt coming to stay with me, or my dining with my friends—next!"
I was angry—.
"No—mon ami—not that—they are not for me—those—but a secretary—a 'Mees'—tiens?—for why do you want us two?"
"You two! good Lord! Do you think, Suzette—Mon Dieu!"—I now became very angry. "My secretary is here to type my book—. Let us understand one another quite—You have overstepped the mark this time, Suzette, and there must be an end. Name whatever sum you want me to settle on you and then I don't ever wish to see you again."
She burst into frantic weeping. She had meant nothing—she was jealous—she loved me—even going to the sea could do nothing for her! I was her adoré—her sun, moon and stars—of what matter a leg or an eye—! I was her life—her Amant!!