(“Devil take me if it is!” he muttered, under his breath.)
M. Bourget still glared at him.
“I am glad you have come to your senses,” he said, surlily.
“Poissy is, of coarse, an ornament of our neighbourhood.” The lawyer managed to get out the words without grimacing.
“The ornament, the ornament, monsieur.”
“The ornament, I should say.”
“And the De Beaudrillarts among our most ancient families.”
“Oh, con—Certainly, Monsieur Bourget, certainly. The most ancient.”
“Precisely. Are you aware that you have not paid for your coffee?”
The lawyer rummaged his pockets. “I am not certain that I have enough change with me.”