“You wish to see me?” inquired Mme. de Renette, somewhat sternly.
“Madam,” began her visitor, in a tremulous voice, “I come with a message from the stars.”
“Very well,” said Mme. de Renette, “will you kindly deliver your message? I do not wish to detain you—from your stars.”
| ✳ | ✳ | ✳ | ✳ | ✳ |
It was a flushed, but a self-complacent, beaming, happy Zozo who stopped Richard Brant on the street an hour later.
“If you please, Mr. Brant, sir,” he said; “I’d like a few minutes of your time.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Brant, wondering if Zozo wanted to borrow any more money.
“You’ve been a great good friend to me, Mr. Brant,” Zozo began, “and I hope you b’lieve, sir, that me and Mommer and Ma Simmons and Mamie are jist as grateful as—well, as anything.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Simmons—“
“Yes, sir. Well, now you’ll pardon me for seeming to interfere, like, in your business. But knowin’ as I done how your affairs with the blonde lady was hangin’ fire, so to speak—“