"As you can readily understand, my friend, one cannot be démodé, dans le metier,—especially in war time!—"
Naturally I agreed with her—.
"The only unfortunate part is that it obliged me to break into the sum for Georgine's education."
"That is at least reparable"—I answered, and reached for my cheque-book—Suzette is such a good little sort—and clothes give her pleasure—and fancy being able to give real pleasure for a few thousand francs—pleasure, not comfort, or charity, or any respectable thing, but just pleasure! The only worry about this cheque was that Suzette was a little too affectionate after it!—I would nearly always rather only talk to her—now.
She accompanied my bath chair on to the terrace. Her ridiculous little outline and high heels contradicting all ideas of balance, and yet presenting an indescribable elegance. She prattled gaily—then when no one was looking she slipped her hand into mine.
"Mon cher! Mon petit chou!" she said.
We had the gayest dinner in my sitting-room—.
"The war was certainly nearing its close—Toinette, the friend of one of the Generals, assured her—people were thoroughly bored, and it was an excellent thing to finish it—."
"But even when peace comes, never again the restaurants open all night to dance, Nicholas!—there is a sadness, my friend!"
That was one of the really bad aspects of wars—the way they upset people's habits—, she told me. Even "dans le metier" things became of an uncertainty! '—One was never sure if the amant would not be killed—and it might be difficult to replace him advantageously!'