Bertin approached her, saying:
“You will disarrange my disorder.”
Without replying to this, she inquired:
“Who is the gentleman that wishes to buy your Baigneuses?”
“An American whom I do not know.”
“Have you come to an agreement about the Chanteuse des rues?”
“Yes. Ten thousand.”
“You did well. It was pretty, but not exceptional. Good-by, dear.”
She presented her cheek, which he brushed with a calm kiss; then she disappeared through the portieres, saying in an undertone:
“Friday—eight o'clock. I do not wish you to go with me to the door—you know that very well. Good-by!”