"How strange!" said Taffy to his wife—"how touching! why, that's where Trilby used to live—the very number! the very floor!"
"Oui, oui," said Gecko, waking up; "c'est l'ancienne mansarde à Trilby—j'y suis depuis douze ans—j'y suis, j'y reste...."
And he laughed feebly at his mild little joke.
Taffy told the address to the cabman, and gave him five francs.
"Merci, m'sieur! C'est de l'aut' côté de l'eau—près de la Sorbonne, s'pas? On vous aura soin du bourgeois; soyez tranquille—ayez pas peur! quarante-huit; on y va! Bonsoir, monsieur et dame!" And he clacked his whip and rattled away, singing:
"V'là mon mari qui r'garde—
Prends garde!
Ne m'chatouill' plus!"
Mr. and Mrs. Wynne walked back to the hotel, which was not far. She hung on to his big arm and crept close to him, and shivered a little. It was quite chilly. Their footsteps were very audible in the stillness; "pit-pat, flopety-clop," otherwise they were both silent. They were tired, yawny, sleepy, and very sad; and each was thinking (and knew the other was thinking) that a week in Paris was just enough—and how nice it would be, in just a few hours more, to hear the rooks cawing round their own quiet little English country home—where three jolly boys would soon be coming for the holidays.
And there we will leave them to their useful, hum-drum, happy domestic existence—than which there is no better that I know of, at their time of life—and no better time of life than theirs!
"Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de ta famille?"
That blessed harbor of refuge well within our reach, and having really cut our wisdom teeth at last, and learned the ropes, and left off hankering after the moon—we can do with so little down here....