"Certainly."
Andrew touched the bell, gave the message, and, when Jules had gone, stood for a moment by the table fingering his letters. Mirabelle had removed her veil and hat, but was still at the mirror, touching the trifling disarrangement of her hair. Their eyes met in reflection, and suddenly both laughed. Then he went over to her side.
"It's very good to see you again," he said, but with a slight trace of embarrassment in his voice.
Mirabelle gave his shoulder a tiny pat.
"L'ami!" she said simply.
Abruptly her mood changed, and she wheeled upon him, all eager animation.
"So this is your little house, great baby! You must show me everything. It's a picnic, this: we shall be two children. Paris? Ça n'existe pas! Il n'y a que nous deux au monde!"
She perched upon the tall fender, swinging her feet, and humming a little tune.
"Oh, la vie bourgeoisé!"