"I say, don't smash us to pieces. When do I go to my place?"
"To-morrow."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To the hotel where I've booked a room for you."
He could not very well confess to Zoé that having himself engaged a room in the town he had at first taken one for her in his own hotel, but that by chance Chéri-Bibi heard of it, and burst into a violent fit of anger at the thought that M. Hilaire should be guilty of an act contrary to the proprieties. M. Hilaire had in vain indignantly protested that his liking for his shop-assistant was an entirely platonic one, and that up to that time they had but exchanged plums, not kisses. "One is more than enough," replied Chéri-Bibi with authority, rolling his big eyes. "'Sufficient for the day' . . ."
"Is it in your hotel?" asked Zoé.
"No," returned M. Hilaire, reddening.
[CHAPTER XXII]
MONSIEUR TOULOUSE'S SHOP
Didier had no need to inquire his way in order to find Monsieur Toulouse's shop. The previous night, by a sort of fatality, as has been said, he stopped outside the squalid-looking house and its odd signboard.'