"No, it didn't occur to me."
"If I were a conceited donkey, I should be very proud of that!"
"But you are not conceited, thank God! you leave that to the fools. But, despite the compliment, Master Laurent, I have a bone to pick with you. They say you are not working."
"And it was for the purpose of forcing me to work that you held Palmer's head at my throat like a pistol?"
"Well, why not?"
"You are kind, Thérèse, I know; you mean to make me earn my living in spite of myself."
"I don't interfere with your means of existence, I have no right to do it. I have not the good or ill fortune to be your mother; but I am your sister,—in Apollo, as our classic Bernard says,—and it is impossible for me not to be grieved by your spasms of indolence."
"But what difference can it make to you?" cried Laurent, with a mingling of irritation and pleasure which Thérèse felt, and which impelled her to reply frankly.
"Listen, my dear Laurent," she said, "we must have an understanding. I have a very great friendship for you."
"I am very proud of it, but I do not know why! Indeed, I am of no use as a friend, Thérèse. I have no more belief in friendship than in love between a man and woman."