Then Mme Maloir, who was counting the tricks she had won with her tens and aces, said cheeringly to her in her soft voice:
“It would be better, dearie, to give up your expedition at once.”
“No, be quick about it,” said Mme Lerat, shuffling the cards. “I shall take the half-past four o’clock train if you’re back here with the money before four o’clock.”
“Oh, there’ll be no time lost,” she murmured.
Ten minutes after Zoé helped her on with a dress and a hat. It didn’t matter much if she were badly turned out. Just as she was about to go downstairs there was a new ring at the bell. This time it was the charcoal dealer. Very well, he might keep the livery-stable keeper company—it would amuse the fellows. Only, as she dreaded a scene, she crossed the kitchen and made her escape by the back stairs. She often went that way and in return had only to lift up her flounces.
“When one is a good mother anything’s excusable,” said Mme Maloir sententiously when left alone with Mme Lerat.
“Four kings,” replied this lady, whom the play greatly excited.
And they both plunged into an interminable game.
The table had not been cleared. The smell of lunch and the cigarette smoke filled the room with an ambient, steamy vapor. The two ladies had again set to work dipping lumps of sugar in brandy and sucking the same. For twenty minutes at least they played and sucked simultaneously when, the electric bell having rung a third time, Zoé bustled into the room and roughly disturbed them, just as if they had been her own friends.
“Look here, that’s another ring. You can’t stay where you are. If many folks call I must have the whole flat. Now off you go, off you go!”