"Then it is agreed on," said he; "we are friends, and nothing more."
She stammered: "It is agreed on;" and then, holding out her lips to him: "One more kiss; the last."
He refused gently, saying: "No, we must keep to our agreement."
She turned aside, wiping away a couple of tears, and then, drawing from her bosom a bundle of papers tied with pink silk ribbon, offered it to Du Roy, saying: "Here; it is your share of the profit in the Morocco affair. I was so pleased to have gained it for you. Here, take it."
He wanted to refuse, observing: "No, I will not take that money."
Then she grew indignant. "Ah! so you won't take it now. It is yours, yours, only. If you do not take it, I will throw it into the gutter. You won't act like that, George?"
He received the little bundle, and slipped it into his pocket.
"We must go in," said he, "you will catch cold."
She murmured: "So much the better, if I could die."
She took one of his hands, kissed it passionately, with rage and despair, and fled towards the mansion. He returned, quietly reflecting. Then he re-entered the conservatory with haughty forehead and smiling lip. His wife and Laroche-Mathieu were no longer there. The crowd was thinning. It was becoming evident that they would not stay for the dance. He perceived Susan arm-in-arm with her sister. They both came towards him to ask him to dance the first quadrille with the Count de Latour Yvelin.