She had seen this woman a score of times, only she made believe never to recognize her and to be quite ignorant of the nature of her relations with ladies in difficulties.
“She has told me her name—Madame Tricon.”
“The Tricon,” cried Nana. “Dear me! That’s true. I’d forgotten her. Show her in.”
Zoé ushered in a tall old lady who wore ringlets and looked like a countess who haunts lawyers’ offices. Then she effaced herself, disappearing noiselessly with the lithe, serpentine movement wherewith she was wont to withdraw from a room on the arrival of a gentleman. However, she might have stayed. The Tricon did not even sit down. Only a brief exchange of words took place.
“I have someone for you today. Do you care about it?”
“Yes. How much?”
“Twenty louis.”
“At what o’clock?”
“At three. It’s settled then?”
“It’s settled.”