"Then you do not love music?"
She suddenly dropped her bantering tone. "Excuse me! I adore music; I think that I am more fond of it than of anything else. And yet Massival is convinced that I know nothing at all about it."
"Did he tell you so?"
"No, but he thinks so."
"How do you know?"
"Oh! we women guess at almost everything that we don't know."
"So Massival thinks that you know nothing of music?"
"I am sure of it. I can see it only by the way that he has of explaining things to me, by the way in which he underscores little niceties of expression, all the while saying to himself: 'That won't be of any use, but I do it because you are so nice.'"
"Still he has told me that you have the best music in your house of any in Paris, no matter whose the other may be."
"Yes, thanks to him."