Her lips parted in an oblique smile.
“Very good! Perfect!” M. Raindal said, exaggerating the satisfaction he derived from her incomplete grin.
Lunch was a silent affair. M. Raindal avoided his daughte eyes. He was secretly relieved when he heard that she was going to the Library after lunch. He did not ask what she was going for; he preferred her to be away when he left.
Towards 4 lock, he donned a smooth frock-coat and took up a pair of new gloves, whose gray skin stuck to his flesh. He hurried, for fear of missing the omnibus. But he noticed, on reaching the street, that the sidewalk was muddy. He called a cab.
CHAPTER IX
MME. Chambannes was waiting for him in the smoking-room, which had been arranged as a study.
In the center stood a large table, on a dark red carpet. There was an English crystal inkstand, bought for the occasion, Oriental cigarettes in a cup, a note-book bound in morocco and gold, and on each side of the table, an Empire armchair. To the Iris perfume emanating from Zozé was added an aroma of incense which pervaded the house, even to the hall.
Mme. Chambannes took M. Rainda hat and gloves, which he hesitated to deposit on the table.
They sat facing each other and the lesson began.
First of all, M. Raindal dictated a list of books which Zozé was to get.