The concierge standing behind her, shrugged her shoulders impatiently, as if she would say, "I have explained, and explained again!"
"I am English, madame."
The lady seemed to sink into a stupor, and bending her head in silence stared at the floor. Fanny, sitting upright in bed, waited for her to speak. The >concierge, her face still as an image, waited too.
Philippe's mother began to sway upon her stick.
"Do please sit down," said Fanny, breaking the silence at last.
"When will you go?" demanded the old lady, suddenly.
"Go?"
"Who gave you that lamp? That is mine." She pointed to a glass lamp which stood upon the table.
"It is all yours," said Fanny, humbly.
"Mademoiselle borrowed it," said the voice of the concierge. "I lent it to her."