“I am sorry for that, as the English books would amuse you.”
“I do not care for romances.”
“Nor do I. But you don’t think that there are only romances in English, do you? I like that. Why do you take me for such a lover of the romantic, pray?”
“I like that, too. That pretty outburst is quite to my taste, and I am delighted to be the first to make you laugh.”
“Pardon me if I laugh, but . . .”
“But me no buts, my dear; laugh away just as you like, you will find that the best way to get over me. I really think, though, that you put your services at too cheap a rate.”
“That makes me laugh again, as it is for you to increase my wages if you like.”
“I shall take care that it is done.”
I rose from table, not taken, but surprised, with this young woman, who seemed to be getting on my blind side. She reasoned well, and in this first interview she had made a deep impression on me. She was young, pretty, elegant, intellectual, and of distinguished manners; I could not guess what would be the end of our connection. I longed to speak to M. Lebel, to thank him for getting me such a marvel, and still more, to ask him some questions about her.
After the supper had been taken away, she came to ask if I would have my hair put in curl papers.