"And, furthermore, the clerk who sold it to you was a fair-haired young man."
"How could I remember what sort of man the clerk was?"
"And yet it was at your dictation he wrote the address, 18 Rue de Laval."
"How do you know?" said Arnoux in amazement.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh! 'tis very simple: I went to get my cashmere altered, and the superintendent of the millinery department told me that they had just sent another of the same sort to Madame Arnoux."
"Is it my fault if there is a Madame Arnoux in the same street?"
"Yes; but not Jacques Arnoux," she returned.
Thereupon, he began to talk in an incoherent fashion, protesting that he was innocent. It was some misapprehension, some accident, one of those things that happen in some way that is utterly unaccountable. Men should not be condemned on mere suspicion, vague probabilities; and he referred to the case of the unfortunate Lesurques.
"In short, I say you are mistaken. Do you want me to take my oath on it?"