“Hush!” she whispered. “Someone has rung the bell. Thérèse, go and open the door, dear! Brigitte has run down to get a cab.”
“Very well, mother.”
Thérèse went to open the door and was surprised to find her Uncle Cyprien, who was wiping his shoes on the yellow mat in the dark hall.
“Good evening, nephew!” he exclaimed merrily. Then he noticed that Thérèse had her cloak on and wore white gloves.
“Oh! you are going out! And I came to share your dinner.... What bad luck!”
He walked in. Thérèse replied with constraint. They had said nothing to him about the Chambannes dinner party, for fear of his criticism.
“Yes, uncle, we are dining out.”
Hearing his brothe voice, the master came out of the room. He exchanged the customary greetings and said, to fend off any query:
“You are unlucky.... We are not dining here.... Can you come to-morrow?”
“Of course!” replied Uncle Cyprien. After a pause he added: