"I am writing a book, Suzette."
"I must see her face," and without waiting for permission, Suzette flounced into the small salon.
I could hear her shrill little voice asking Miss Sharp to be so good as to give her an envelope—She must write an address! I watched her—Miss Sharp handed her one, and went on with her work.
Suzette returned, closing the door, without temper, behind her.
"Wouff!" she announced to me—"No anxiety there—an Anglaise—not appetizing—not a fausse maigre like us, as thin as a hairpin! Nothing for thou Nicholas—and Mon Dieu!—she does the family washing by her hands—I know! mine look like that when I have taken one of my fortnights at the sea!"
"You think it is washing?—I was wondering—."
"Does she take off her glasses ever, Nicholas?"
"No perhaps she has weak light eyes. One never can tell!"
Suzette was not yet quite at ease about it all—. I was almost driven to ask Miss Sharp to remove her glasses to reassure her.
Women are jealous even of one-legged half blind men! I would like to ask my cook if he has the same trouble—but—Oh! I wish anything mattered!