"Eh ben, mon petit—" she began at length. "It is a poor place to get fat in, your Paris! They don't feed you any too well—hein?—Those grand restaurants you talk so much about. Pouf!"
"Penses-tu?" added the girl, since Garron did not reply. Instead he lighted a fresh cigarette, took two long puffs from it, and threw it on the floor.
The girl, angered at his silence and lack of courage, gave him a vicious glance.
"Hélas!" sighed Julie, "you were quicker with your tongue when you were a baby."
"Ah zut!" exclaimed the girl in disgust. "He has something to tell you—" she blurted out to Julie.
"Eh ben! What?" demanded Julie firmly.
"I need some money," muttered the boy doggedly. "I need it!!" he cried suddenly, gaining courage in a sort of nervous hysteria.
Julie stared at him in amazement, the girl watching her like a lynx.
"Bon Dieu!" shouted Julie. "And it is because of that you sit there like a sick cat! Listen to me, my little one. Eat the good grease like the rest of us and be content if you keep out of jail."